The Sandman's Apprentice
by Starzangel
Summary: Chris is targeted and attacked by a demon through his dreams. And, as the demon enjoys telling him, death in the mind equals death in the body when his magic is involved. COMPLETE
1. Hushabye

Disclaimer: _Charmed_ isn't mine. But this story is.

**Set:** Mid Season 6

**Author's Note:** This is my first _Charmed_ fic and I have seen nowhere near the entirety of the episodes. Apologies for any ignorant blunders.

* * *

_Charmed_

**The Sandman's Apprentice**

by

Starzangel

* * *

**P1: Hushabye**

* * *

The corridor was incredibly long. Quite possibly it could be said to be endless and the meaning would be literal. There was no sign of an end or a turning, or not that Chris could see. All there was were doors, lots and lots of identical, plain, metal doors - one every three metres on each side. Their dull metallic hue was in fitting with the white walls and ceiling with its dim strip lighting, and the slate-coloured lino. Everything was simple, clinical and in severe lack of the welcoming touch. It even stank of disinfectant. 

Every fibre of Chris's being wanted to get out of there. Something was very wrong with this place. He could sense the darkness of it, lurking behind the odd façade. He broke into a run, praying for a way out.

Of course, the regimental doors were the obvious means to attempt escape. But Chris could feel the unearthly power behind them - whatever they were the entrances to was not good.

He hurried on, passing tauntingly identical door after tauntingly identical door.

There was no sound except the thud of his shoes against the flooring and the increasing harshness of his rapid breathing. Sweat beaded on his brow and his limbs felt like lead.

It hurt as if a metal band was tightening around his forehead and his lungs couldn't seem to draw in enough oxygen.

The air was getting thinner.

Much thinner.

His running steps began to falter. He staggered against a door, his vision spinning. The metal was cool and firm, not shifting a millimetre in its frame under his weight. Chest heaving and muscles burning, Chris was incapable of pushing away and standing on his own. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and his jelly-like legs finally gave way, sending him down into a limp heap.

Beneath his cheek the cold door seemed to pulse, the dark power behind it wanting to drain his white magic. His eyes were hypnotically drawn to the door handle, his hand itched to reach up for it. Fighting against the enforced desire, Chris screwed his eyes up tight. But the image stayed with him. Burning in his retinas.

_Open it._

The disembodied voice was deep and taunting, echoing in his mind.

_No. I won't._ Chris opened his eyes and fought to sit up straight. But he failed. It felt like there was a vice around his chest, tightening and tightening. He couldn't breathe.

_Would you rather die? Open it!_

"Chris?"

A familiar female voice broke through, seeming to come from far away.

"Chris!"

The voice was getting louder and was unmistakably Paige's.

He tried to reply, but her name died on his blue-grey lips.

"Chris, wake up!"

* * *

Chris's eyelids slid back and the blonde witch's face came into focus. She drew back, releasing his shoulders now that her shaking had gotten the desired effect. 

Shifting, Chris found himself sat on the sitting room sofa at the Halliwell Manor, bathed in sweat and trembling.

"I must've dosed off..." he mumbled, realising that the nightmarish corridor had been just that, a nightmare.

Paige moved the old demonology book, which had slipped off his lap, and sat down beside him.

"Are you ok?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah. Just a nightmare." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaky hand, as embarrassment coloured his blanched cheeks a little.

"Reading stuff like that is bound to give you nightmares," Paige declared, indicating the text. "Worse than cheese."

He managed to grin back at her.

"Maybe you should give all this demon seeking a rest for a bit," Paige suggested, seriously. "You've been working yourself a little too hard recently."

Chris's grin fell, displaced by irritation and anger. He stood up and glared down at her.

"Well someone has to!" he snapped. "The demon that converts Wyatt could attack any day now. The future depends on me working out who it is before it's too late."

"You've been saying that for weeks," Paige tried to reason, spreading her hands.

"That's because it's true!" Chris sighed, exasperated and bitter. "I'm so sorry if I sound like a broken record, but you lot don't seem to be getting the gravity of the situation through your pretty little heads!"

Fury burned through his tired body. They didn't know what was at stake here! But they couldn't, Chris reminded himself, that was the point, they didn't know, not really. And Paige was only acting out of concern for him. He sighed again, but it was a longer, calmer release of breath this time.

"I'm sorry." He rubbed his aching temples with a hand, as he looked down, ashamed. "I've not been able to sleep much at night and it's making me a bit..."

"Cranky?" Paige supplied.

"Yeah." He gave her an apologetic half-smile.

"It's ok." She reached up and gently squeezed his hand. "You've been through a lot lately and I know you're only trying to help."

He squeezed her hand back in thanks, before letting go.

"I was about to head into work," she told him, standing up to grab her jacket off the coffee table. "I can pick you up some sleeping tablets on the way, if you like?"

"Nah. Thanks, but I'll be fine," Chris politely declined her offer.

"If you're sure?" She paused in the doorway, car keys in hand.

He nodded.

"'K. See you later."

"Bye," he called after her.

Alone in the room, Chris picked up the ancient, leather-bound book and flickered through until he recovered the page he'd been reading. With a distracted yawn, he headed for the kitchen to get a hot drink to orb up to the attic with. The caffeine would pretty much be a necessity if he wanted to cross-reference his demonology text without falling asleep on the Book of Shadows.

_I'll be back. _

Chris stopped in his tracks, frozen by the sound of the threatening, disembodied voice.

_I'm not done with you yet, Christopher._

To be continued...

A/N: Any good? Worth continuing?


	2. Insomnia

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! This chapter wasn't going how I wanted it to, but your encouragement urged me on until I got it sorted.

Stony Angel, in answer to your question, this story is set before anyone finds out that Chris is Piper and Leo's son, but they do know that he is part-witch and that Wyatt turns evil in his future.

* * *

**P2: Insomnia**

* * *

Chris stared up at the ceiling. Only it was too dark for him to actually make out any of its features. So, really, he was staring at nothing, in vain hope of boring himself to sleep. It wasn't working. 

He was beginning to wish he'd taken Paige up on the offer of sleeping pills. The unintentional nap he'd taken in the day indicated that he was in desperate need of a decent night's sleep, not to mention the starting to hear voices thing. Worse side effects could present themselves next; hallucinations could easily be on the cards and he recalled someone telling him you forget your own name after six days without any sleep. Forgetting who he was definitely wouldn't protect Wyatt and create the future he strived for.

He tried shutting his eyes. There wasn't much difference to having them open - same blackness and same lack of slumber. He opened them again and his pupils dilated in hope of seeing something interesting on the ceiling.

A frustrated sigh fell heavily from his lips. He needed to sleep. He wanted to sleep. But he couldn't.

Chris pounded the old sofa with clenched fists and sat up, pushing back the covers and swinging his legs over the side. There was no point in wasting precious hours just lying there. He snapped on the lamp, bathing the backroom of P3 in a yellowish glare, and swiftly dressed. He would try the sleeping malarkey again tomorrow.

After taking a moment to skim over the text in an open book, Chris disappeared in a shower of blue-white droplets of light.

* * *

A few fluttering torches dimly lit the Underworld cavern from where they burnt in holders on the walls, casting shadows across the rugged ground and leaving the dark recesses untouched. The coppery tang of blood was thickly spread like melted butter in the cold air, almost forcing Chris to gag. He slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and was comforted by the feel of the little glass bottle. 

With the intention of having the element of surprise on his side, he crept towards the entrance to a tunnel. The Jekeele demon was unlikely to expect an attack at this time of night, so hopefully he would be able to sneak up on him and carry out the vanquish without a struggle.

A mass of hair and claws was suddenly upon him.

Chris hit the ground hard, a heavy weight pressing down on him and fetid breath in his face.

So much for surprise.

His first instinct was to orb, but when he tried nothing happened. There was something preventing him from dematerialising.

A white-hot droplet of alarm slid through his chest. He was pinned to the floor, unable to reach the potion in his pocket. His eyes flew around the cavern, searching for something to aid him. Crimson-stained, serrated teeth were seconds from being wetted with fresh blood.

Chris's eyes stilled. He lifted a wrist, making a grasping and sweeping motion.

With a loud crack, a stalactite was telekinetically snapped off the roof of the cavern. The rod of calcium carbonate soared through the air and stabbed the hairy mass on top of Chris. With a roar of agony, the Jekeele demon reared up, clawing at the stone icicle embedded in his side.

Chris quickly scrabbled to his feet and got well out of the way. He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled out the vanquishing potion and threw it at the roaring demon.

It struck the ground and shattered at the Jekeele demon's clawed feet, tiny shards of glass flying outwards along with a puff of thick smoke.

The creature's roars turned to screams, as it burst into flames.

Moments later, only a pile of ash remained and the cavern was quiet once more.

Chris yawned and brushed greasy Jekeele hair from his crumpled shirt. His second attempt to orb failed, which didn't surprise him. He'd heard there was a demon around who was sealing others' caves - for an ample fee, of course. It was an easy enough potion to make, which needed to only be poured in a circle, and would then allow whitelighters to orb in but prevent them from using their power again. However, it only had an effect if you were within the circle - Chris had no doubt that his ability to orb would be restored once he entered the tunnel. Also, the potion stopped working after only thirty-two hours of being applied. It was far from a new discovery, the mixture having merely been forgotten by most due to its ineffectiveness. Soon the demons would realise they were being conned, but Chris fancied putting a stop to the dealer's exploits a little sooner.

Anyhow, there was information he wanted out of Hychek.

* * *

He could have been referred to as an informant, but that title would be too classy for the weak-willed, double-crossing, money-grabbing, lower-level demon. 

Hychek was a tattletale.

His powers were no greater than the talents of a mortal shifty salesman, though with the additional ability to shimmer out before the fist of an angry buyer could collide with his horned brow. Though, 'horned brow' is something of an exaggeration - the two bony knobbles on his forehead were far too short and blunt to fulfil the requirements needed to be called 'horns'. He was a dab hand with potion making, but Chris had stirred his first cauldron at the age of seven, so it wasn't something for the thousands of years old demon to brag about.

Hychek certainly wasn't bragging when Chris had a fistful of his shirt and his other hand drawn back with a potion in it.

Chris shook the little corked bottle, tauntingly, the florescent green liquid sloshing up the sides of the glass. The mere two-point-five centimetres-cubed of potion was enough to send the demon to a very hot place. Torrents of sweat dripped from Hychek's face, suggesting that his thoughts had already gone there.

"P-please no, please, please!" The panicky grovelling was befitting of a demon of Hychek's quality. "Let's be reasonable about this, eh? Please! I mean, hey, we're friends, right? Buddies, pals! Ok, maybe not...but, uh, hey, I've helped you out in the past and, and, and I'm going help you in the future. And, uh, the present, actually. 'Cause a funny thing happened to me today, I was - "

Chris cut the self-appreciating drivel off. "Was this before or after you doused a Jekeele demon's cavern with anti-orb potion?"

"Oh." Hychek looked shocked and relieved. The latter particularly bothered Chris, as did the words that followed. "This is about that? I thought you'd..." The demon cut himself off this time.

The fist clutching the front of the demon's shirt tightened. "You thought I'd what?"

"Nothing. Nothing." A repeated, hasty reply generally stunk of untruth.

Chris slipped the vanquishing potion into his pocket, Hychek's gaze nervously following the movement and fearing the freed hand.

"I had you confused with someone else." The demon tried to laugh, almost choking on the lump in his throat.

"Oh, really? Well, let me remind you who I am."

"No! No! I'll talk!"

Chris lowered the whitelighter/witch-empowered hand he'd raised. Hychek was not just a tattletale, he was a cowardly tattletale - an attribute that made Chris's job that bit easier.

"You were saying?" Chris prodded, the demon having fallen silent.

"What would you like to know?" Hychek swallowed nervously, attempting to wiggle out of the tight hold Chris had on his shirt.

"First, let's start with you telling me what you've found out about that Carrion demon." He pulled the shirt tighter.

"Navacar had a brief interest in the Charmed Ones, but he's left town for a while. Something about a family gathering."

"He'll be back," Chris said, confidently. "Let me know when."

"Ok. Anything else you want to know?" Hychek tried to smile gamely.

"How about that thing you don't want me to know."

"Oh... I may have possibly, perhaps, there's a slight chance that I..."

"Yes?"

"...let slip to Rinide that you were the one who lured his warlock minions into the trap you'd set up with the Charmed Ones. It was an accident, I, I..."

Chris had let go of Hychek's shirt to grab his neck in a choking grip, the potion appearing again in his other hand.

"No, Hychek. He paid you and you talked."

"He wouldn't've given you any information, anyway," Hychek gasped out. "He's conspiring with Yelligh and Brecin."

Chris threw the demon to the floor by the neck. With a whimper, Hychek covered his head with his arms, as if that would protect him from a vanishing potion. However, seconds passed without a magical explosion and he was still there. He dared to look up and saw Chris scowling down at him with disgust, but the potion had been returned to his pocket.

"My instructions are these," Chris told him, a little heatedly, "tell me when Navacar returns, keep an eye on Rinide and the others, and your little anti-orb cave scheme is to stop."

Hychek nodded in compliance, rubbing his neck.

"Remember, I always keep this little bottle on me." He patted the pocket containing the florescent green potion.

As Chris moved away, Hychek got to his feet.

"Hey, uh, Chris."

He paused and looked at the demon.

"You should watch your back," Hychek warned. "I don't know much, but there's talk of a Nightmare demon interested in your _ü__ber_-powerful brother."

Chris gave him a curt nod of thanks and orbed out.


	3. Doorways to Oblivion

A/N: Thank you for the reviews! They truly do encourage me to update quicker (though you wouldn't think it with the lateness of this chapter being posted - I'm so very, very, very sorry about the wait!).

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**Part 3: Doorways to Oblivion**

* * *

"You need to get a hobby," Phoebe declared, derisively.

Chris graced her by looking up from _Devilry and Demons_, accompanied by a scowl.

"This is my hobby," he deadpanned.

Phoebe quietly sighed, rolling her eyes as she backed off. Chris had a well-lit view of the page he was trying to read for measly seconds, before the elder sister's shadow stepped up as a replacement.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Piper asked, a note of accusation in her voice.

"Yes," he lied. His gaze was obstinately fixed on the book and he shifted to bring it back into the light.

"Well, you look like you didn't. In fact, you look like you haven't slept for days."

Chris's eyes flew up to Piper, blazing.

"Who are you? My mother?" he snapped, mocking and bitter.

The turmoil of emotion in him was too turbulent for Piper to read, though anger seemed dominant. She responded in kind; bristling and moving into a confrontational stance, blocking him from the artificial light. He looked sickly pale in the moonlight slipping in through the conservatory windows.

"No," she stated, hands on hips. "I am the mother of the child you're _supposed_ to be protecting." A finger pointed at the toddler in his playpen. "A job you can't do if you can barely keep your eyes open!"

"So, you want me to sleep for Wyatt's sake, is that it?" he drawled, and clenched his jaw, refusing to look over at the fair-haired child.

"What Piper means," Phoebe said, placative, coming to stand beside her sister, "is that you should get some rest for all our sakes, yours included."

A frustrated sigh fell from Chris's lips, but a wave of suppressing fatigue swept over him and he yawned instead of replying.

An evening of page turning and note taking was the perfectly wearing follow-up to a long day of hanging around demons bars with his eyes and ears open, interspersed by paying house calls to put pressure on informants. Yet, it was important work, and Miss Annoyance and Miss Distraction were not helping in the least. He was about to bid them a grumpy adieu and orb himself off to the backroom at P3, when he realised there was a reason why he had chosen to work at the manor. The actual reason itself was slower to surface in his tired brain.

A click reached his ears as the front door closed behind its entrant.

His memory was slow. _Paige. Something about Paige..._

The youngest sister found them in the conservatory and flopped down into a seat.

"Boy, what a day," Paige exclaimed. "My boss at Ricco's Bar sure is a slave driver. It's no wonder he's having to take on temp staff to cover the shifts. And it's right across town, too," she grouched. "However, I shouldn't have to stay there for much longer." Her expression brightened. "I think I've found my innocent requiring rescuing." A sly grin appeared on her lips, as she added, "And he's pretty hot, too."

"Oh, he's a he, is he?" Piper raised her eyebrows.

"Yup. David. Californian hunk with these simply amazing blue eyes."

Phoebe nodded approvingly.

The cogs continued to turn in Chris's brain. _Something about that guy…and a landlady..._

"It seems he's having some trouble with his landlady, not being able to meet rent deadlines and such like, and he swears the cranky old lady gets up to some kooky stuff in the basement. Black smoke, black cats, black _magic_."

"No, no she doesn't...no..." Chris muttered, thoughtfully.

"He's invited me around for dinner tomorrow night," Paige continued, none of them really hearing Chris's soft mutterings. "So I'll be able to suss her out then."

"No," Chris said, much more loudly and firmly this time. The three sisters looked at him in surprise and question. "He's the demon, not the landlady. A Jardax demon."

"Hey!" Paige frowned. "I'm supposed to work these things out for myself, y'know!"

"Yeah, well, you were very close to being turned into human rice pudding last time."

"Ew." She crinkled her noise in distaste. "Alright, Mr History Buff, how do I stop him?"

"I don't remember offhand." Chris scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's in the Book of Shadows. You three should have no trouble in summoning him and then performing a vanquish."

"Ok." Paige stood up and held out her hands to orb her sisters up to the attic.

"Wait." Piper grabbed a baby monitor and switched on its pair next to Wyatt's playpen. "You be good, sweetie." Her son looked up at her with his wide, innocent eyes. "Mommy'll be back soon to put you to bed." She then turned to Chris. "Keep an eye on him, can't you? We'll only be upstairs."

"I will," Chris promised.

The sisters orbed up to the attic, leaving him alone with Wyatt. The young Halliwell went back to quietly playing with his toys and Chris picked up his book again.

It wasn't long before Chris's eyelids felt heavy and the printed words were blurring. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the soft jingles and clacks of Wyatt's toys. Stealthily, sleep crept up and pulled Chris under before he realised what was happening.

* * *

Chris knew he was dreaming. The horribly familiar endless corridor of metal doors was a bit of a giveaway.

He sighed. This was not a reoccurring dream he wanted.

_Welcome back, Christopher._

The disembodied, haunting voice was accompanied by a numbing chill in the air.

_Are you going to cooperate this time? Or do you require further encouragement? _

Chris scrubbed his hands over his tired face. This dream was going to be more tiring than staying awake. He ignored the voice and concentrated on trying to will himself awake.

The voice laughed, lightly.

_What are you doing? _

There was more amusement than threat in the question. The unexpected change in tone caught Chris's attention.

_I'm holding you here, and with no one to wake you up outside of my fabrication, you're trapped. Sorry, m'boy._

The voice didn't sound apologetic in the least, but the light-hearted tone remained intact.

It was true that Chris had found himself bumping against some kind of barrier whenever he felt himself getting close to awakening. The invisible force felt demonic when he touched it. Fear settled low in his stomach. He started to doubt that he was experiencing a natural reoccurring dream.

_Your only hope of escape lies beyond the doors. _

Chris listened to the voice with more heed this time, but then instantly dismissed the idea of going through one of the doors. He had already ascertained that they were portals to a place of strong demonic power.

_You have no choice. _

The voice had changed; biting menace laced the words.

_I can be _very_ persuasive. _

_I will fight you! _Chris clenched his fists at his sides, his own substantial magic tingling just under his skin and making the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end like an electric charge.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Chris demanded, out loud. None of his fear rose to cause a quiver in his voice; it was overruled by determination and anger.

_Oh, if you insist. _

The cheeriness was back.

_No need to get your knickers in a twist. _

A dark figure shimmered into existence in front of Chris, at the optimal distance for theatrical effect; he was given a raven-haired head to patent leather toe view of the tall, thin man that appeared with his tailored frock coat swishing aesthetically around his legs. Piercing eyes, which were grey, blue and green all at once, sparkled with enjoyment that was matched by the smile on thin, pastel lips, all standing out from a narrow face that would have been handsome were it not for its unearthly pallor.

"You're the Nightmare demon I was warned about," Chris said, voicing what he had been on the brink of concluding as he'd demanded the demon to show himself.

"Oh, how astute you are." It was said mockingly, but without aggression, as the Nightmare demon stepped towards Chris. "But, gah! That name is so vulgar. I much prefer to call myself a Sandman's apprentice. It's more…disingenuous." Mischievousness danced across the demon's features. "And humble, don't you think?" he added. His fine eyebrows arched with false pondering. "Hmm, perhaps not."

Ignoring the demon's pompous display, the witch and whitelighter powers within Chris rushed through him like adrenalin, ready for immediate use.

"I won't let you get to Wyatt," Chris declared, vehemently.

The demon gave a laugh – a musical note tinged with darkness.

"Your thoughts are so linear, so blinkered. Come now, try to rise above your habitual stupidity. Wyatt isn't having this dream, now is he, hmm?" There was no mistaking the darkness that filled the eyes and twisted the mouth, as it deepened the voice. "You are."

"Me? You're after me?" Surprised, Chris blinked wide-eyed. "Why me?"

Smug pride at his own perceived intuitiveness added flamboyance to the demon's hand gestures, as he gave his explanation. "You are here to prevent Wyatt being turned. I, however, think a future of evil will be a good world to live in. And since Wyatt will be lording over the waking, surely I'll be free to rule the sleeping."

"You have no idea." Chris shook his head in disbelief, taking his turn to be amazed by the other's naivety.

"Doubt me, mortal, if you so wish," the demon replied, irritation marring his brow for a moment. Then his expression relaxed. "Now, back to the doors."

"Is this the point where you threaten to kill me again?" Chris cut in. "Because you'd be wasting your time. This is just a dream – you can't really hurt me."

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong." The Nightmare demon clapped his hands together with glee, darkness blazing from the depths of his eyes as they bored into Chris's skull. "This isn't just any old dream. It's my creation and I'm in control. Your wounds really will bleed, your bones really will break. You can die here." The grin twisted further. "And if you die in here, you die out there in the world of the waking, too."

The blood had drained from Chris's face, leaving him ghostly pale. The fear in the bottom of his stomach grew into a beast that gnawed at his insides.

He swallowed before speaking. "What's behind the doors?"

"Ah, the doors, the doors!" Pleasure spread across the demon's face.

"Do I have to pick the right one?" Chris continued to struggle to keep the wavering in his voice under control.

"Pick one? Dear boy, it doesn't matter which one you go through. They all lead to the same place."

"What place?"

"You'll see."

"I won't open any of those doors," Chris resisted.

"Of course, you will." The demon flashed pearly white teeth. "You have no choice."

"You can't kill me in this corridor. If you could, you wouldn't be so eager for me to go through the doors," Chris reasoned, his mind racing even faster than his pounding heart.

"Don't be so sure of that. Perhaps I just want to give you a sporting chance."

"No. All I have to do is wait here until someone wakes me up."

"Excuse me, I think you'll find I'm the one who knows what can and can't happen," the demon said, indignantly. "You're weaker than last time and as such I have a much greater hold on you. If anyone were to discover your body now, they would find you slipping deeper and deeper into a coma."

The hint of colour that had only just returned to Chris's cheeks fled once more.

"I _could_ kill you in this corridor," the demon said, sounding reluctant to do so. "But I can do much more exciting things to you beyond one of the doors." His eyes flashed with excitement. "Of course, it is there that I risk you being able to escape. But I'm confident enough in my entrapment for that to not bother me. However, I think it will be a point of serious contemplation for _you_."

"You're lying," Chris responded in anger born out of fear and frustration.

The demon gave a short sigh, rolling his eyes. Then he shimmered out.

Chris stared at the empty space where the Nightmare demon had stood seconds before. Confusion and anxiety shredded his nerves. He took a tentative step forwards, and then turned in a full circle, his wide eyes seeking either the demon or a new threat.

His heart beat furiously in his chest and Chris became aware of a familiar tightness, as his lungs failed to draw in enough oxygen.

The pain quickly worsened and the accompanying ache in his head grew so bad he could barely think straight. His legs gave way and he sank to the floor, feeling as though he was dropping through quicksand.

"Same as before," he gasped out, as he toppled forwards and his hands splayed out on the floor in front of him to support his weight. "All you…can do?"

_Of course, not. _

The disembodied voice was good-humoured.

_As I told you, I can do much more beyond the doors. And that's the only place you have any hope of escaping. _

Chris's brain was clouded with a woolly fog, his thoughts struggling to make their way through it and join together.

There was no way of knowing if the demon was lying or not… But if he stayed in the corridor, the rapidly thinning air would kill him in minutes… It wasn't a case of trusting the demon… His only hope was beyond the doors…

He had no choice.

On his hands and knees, Chris dragged himself over to the nearest plain, metal door. His eyes locked onto the chrome handle. Grudgingly, he reached up.

The demon didn't speak a word, but the pain in Chris's chest eased up slightly. It gave him the strength to grasp hold of the cool, smooth metal of the handle and pull it down. As he pushed forwards, the door swung open a few inches. Dark shadow pooled out of the gap like rays of light.

Chris used the doorframe to help haul himself up onto his feet. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door fully open. He shoved his fear aside and drew all his strength together, his magic coursing through him.

Then he stepped over the threshold into the pitch-blackness beyond.

* * *

Chris found himself in a world of swirling blue and indigo light, which was irregularly slashed through by flashes of silver lightning. He lost all sense of up and down, left and right, in front and behind. Time and space meant nothing. All there was were the colours, the lightning and the feeling of being on a wildly out of control merry-go-round, and the knowledge that his stomach was going to turn inside out if it was all kept up much longer. 

Mercifully, the movement stopped. The bright colours vanished and were replaced by a copse on a sunny hillside. Birds swept across the clear blue sky and squirrels chirruped to each other as they jumped from branch to branch. Warily, Chris moved through the trees, but, aside from the wildlife, he was alone in the remote countryside spot.

Coming to a stop in a clearing, he opened his mouth to yell the demon's name, when he realised that he didn't know it. This proved not to be a problem, for at that moment the Nightmare demon shimmered in.

"Well now, isn't this a cheery little place?" The demon spread his arms to embrace his fabricated surroundings. "I bet you're glad you stepped through the door!"

Chris's expression was grim and he didn't answer.

"Let's see, I could fight you directly myself…" The Nightmare demon tapped a finger to his bottom lip in mock contemplation. "But that really isn't my style – I'm not one to get my hands dirty." As if to illustrate the point, the demon straightened the crisp, white shirt cuffs sticking out from under his tailored coat. "Instead, I'll create someone to do the messy deed for me."

With a grin, the Nightmare demon clicked his fingers and then shimmered out.

_Never fear, I shall be watching you. Right up until you draw your last, pathetic breath… _

The cold, taunting words were followed by a laugh of dark mirth.

Chris's eyes darted around him, searching the tree line for the direction from which the demon's promised minion would approach.

There was a brief whistling as something shot past his ear. His gaze settled on the arrow sticking out from the trunk of a tree in front of him.

Spinning around, Chris found himself confronted with the demon his whitelighter power sensed: a Darklighter.

The demon was telekinetically flung across the clearing, before he could raise his crossbow for a second shot. The twigs of a prickly bush broke under his weight and the weapon fell to the ground.

Quickly opening his palm and reaching out, the crossbow flew across to Chris's hand. He aimed the weapon at the fallen Darklighter as he approached him, putting a stop to the demon's attempts to get up. With a scowl, the demon disappeared in a shower of black orbs.

Chris silently berated himself for allowing the Darklighter's escape. Then, sensing a presence behind him, he spun around. Chris's instant firing of the weapon vanquished the second Darklighter that had just appeared. That put a stop to his regrets. He lowered the crossbow, now that he had no arrow to load it with.

Chris stood and waited. All his senses were on high alert.

Black orbs announced the arrival of another off to Chris's left. He used his free hand to blast the demon up into the air. It crashed into a tree trunk.

Dropping the empty crossbow, Chris reached his hand out for the loaded one. He turned right and telekinetically knocked a newly arrived Darklighter off his feet. The loaded crossbow arrived into his hand.

Spinning back to the left, he fired and vanquished the fallen third demon before he could reach the abandoned, empty weapon.

Chris turned to pick up the other dropped, but loaded crossbow and deal with its owner. He wasn't aware of what appeared like a dark line streaking across the clearing.

A sharp, burning agony in his side was the first Chris knew of the fifth Darklighter's arrow.

His eyes widened into two bright, green pools of shock. A shaking hand hovered over the black arrow. The deadly poison that the tip had been dipped in was making its way into his blood stream. Numbness in his extremities was followed by a swift collapse to the ground.

Chris lay in an awkward heap in the grass, already far too weak to raise his hand to grasp the arrow and pull it out. Black spots amassed across his vision and he had to fight to stop his eyes from rolling up into his head.

"Ah, dear, dear." A taunting and slightly disappointed voice announced the return of the Nightmare demon.

Chris's blurred gaze focused on polished toes of black shoes, as the demon stepped up to stand next to where he lay, helpless.

"Defeated at the first hurdle." The demon sighed, a little petulantly. "Really, I had hoped for more. Maybe I should have gone after Wyatt after all – he would have put up a better fight."

Despite the scorching agony of the Darklighter's poison coursing through his body, the jibe was still painful.

"Does it hurt so very badly?" the Nightmare demon asked, with a pretence of concern. "Never mind, you've slept so little lately that you're body is too weak to put up much resistance against the poison. It won't be long now."

A dark laugh shattered all illusion of caring.

The poison's effects swept through Chris in waves of dark power, bringing beads of sweat out on his ashen forehead. Every part of him hurt unbearably. His strength was all but gone and he hung to consciousness by a thread. Breathing was difficult and the effort was becoming too much, while his heart was cloaked in poison and weakening with each beat.

"Well, you can't stay here any longer," the Nightmare demon said with a note of finality, his shoes shifting impatiently. "I can't have dead bodies littering up the place."

* * *

Chris's eyes were shut, so it wasn't vision that announced to him his change of environment. Rather it was a subconscious realisation, gained from his other fading senses, that he couldn't hear the birds or the wind any more and his head was pillowed on something plump and soft instead of grass. 

It took a tremendous enough, but eventually he managed to half open his eyelids.

A smudged version of the Halliwell Manor conservatory blessed his eyes. He felt relief at being graced the comfort of dying there, instead of in the Nightmare demon's fabricated world.

Movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention. He shifted his head ever so slightly and struggled to focus on what he soon recognised as Wyatt. The sight of the fair-haired toddler triggered something within Chris.

He didn't want to die. He couldn't die. He needed to protect Wyatt.

From somewhere within him he found the miraculous strength to sit up. Ignoring the crazy spinning of the room, he attempted to stand. Instead he ended up pitching forwards. The chair was no longer beneath him; he was surrounded by air and was falling.

Chris hit the table in front of him, but was beyond feeling pain. He slid off to one side and down onto the floor.

As his sightless eyes closed, the last thing that registered in Chris's mind was the crying of the child in the nearby playpen. 


	4. Baby Tears and Chicken Soup

A/N: Thank you for your continued encouragement! I'm overjoyed that so many people like my story!

* * *

**Part 4: Baby Tears and Chicken Soup**

* * *

In the attic of the Halliwell Manor, the dust was settling after the vanquish of the Jardax demon. Paige shut the Book of Shadows, Phoebe started gathering up the crystals and Piper was restacking some fallen boxes in the corner. 

Suddenly the sound of crying came over the baby monitor.

Wyatt was wailing, his pitch and volume increasing by the second. Alarm filled Piper as she recognised her toddler's cry – her son was frightened. Her first thought was to get to him. Anticipating this, Paige held out her hand to orb her downstairs.

Piper's second thought, as she took her sister's hand, was to wonder what was scaring him. Then, as the room began to dissolve into blue-white light, she wondered why she couldn't now hear Chris trying to soothe Wyatt.

* * *

Arriving in the conservatory, Piper rushed over to the playpen to pick up her son. Wyatt was flushed bright red and his face was soaked with tears. 

"Hey, you're ok, you're ok," she soothed, holding him close. "Mommy's got you."

Her son continued to cry and she followed his fixed gaze at the same time as Paige yelped. Both brought Piper's attention to the young man collapsed on the floor.

"Chris! Oh God!" she exclaimed.

Paige was at his side and gently eased him over onto his back. He was a deathly shade, his lips were grey-blue and there was a large red stain on his shirt.

"Is he…?" Piper asked, trying to get Wyatt to turn away as she took a step forward.

Her fingers pressed against Chris's neck, Paige looked up as she replied, "He's alive, but barely." She threw back her head and yelled, "Leo!"

Piper joined in the shouting for her husband, as they heard Phoebe running down the stairs.

In seconds, Leo orbed in. Concern was etched into his forehead by the urgency of the sisters' call.

"It's Chris," Piper said.

Paige stood up to make way for the Elder.

"What happened?" Leo asked, kneeling at the side of the unconscious young man.

Phoebe came in at that moment and gasped in horror, raising a hand to her mouth.

"We don't know," Piper replied. "We were in the attic when Wyatt started crying."

Leo pulled up Chris's bloodstained shirt to reveal a deep puncture wound in his side. Holding his hands over the injury, golden light radiated from the Elder's palms. His frown deepened.

"Darklighter poison… This wound is from a Darklighter's arrow!" Leo exclaimed.

"But where's the arrow?" Paige asked, looking around the room.

"And why didn't we hear anything over the baby monitor?" Phoebe added.

Chris's wound was healing under Leo's administrations. Soon no sign of the piercing remained, but he was still far too pale and his eyes failed to do so much as flicker open.

"I've done all I can, but he's still very weak," Leo said, drawing back his hands. "Help me get him to the couch."

He wrapped his arms around the young man and picked him up with Paige's help. Phoebe cleared the way for them into the living room, while Piper returned a quietened down Wyatt to his playpen.

Leo gently lowered Chris onto the sofa, Paige guiding his head down onto a cushion.

"Why isn't he waking up?" Phoebe asked, worried.

"The poisoning was far advanced," Leo answered, gently. "He was very close to the end."

Paige perched on the edge of the sofa and brushed a damp strand of short, dark hair back off Chris's pale forehead. She looked anxiously up at Leo. "But he's going to be ok, isn't he?"

Leo hesitated. "He should be."

Piper appeared with a blanket that she draped over Chris. At that moment, the young man's eyelids finally flickered, supporting Leo's words. Piper tenderly ran a hand over his cheek and called his name, coaxing him into consciousness.

Chris slowly opened his eyes and mumbled a word that was too soft for any of them to catch. Then the film across his eyes cleared and he focused on the faces looking down at him.

"Hey, sleepy head," Piper greeted.

Chris shifted so he was raised up a little more. "Hey." A quiet half-smile appeared on his lips. "Did the vanquish go ok?"

Piper stepped back and frowned, while Paige looked at him as if he was delusional.

"We got rid of the Jardax demon," Piper told him. "But what we're all _dying_ to know is what just happened to you."

"I had a nightmare," Chris said, simply, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"Oh, really?" Paige cocked her head and raised her eyebrows at him.

He nodded.

"A nightmare?" Phoebe frowned at him.

He nodded again.

"A nightmare that very nearly killed you?" Piper looked at him accusingly.

"Chris, you were wounded. You'd been hit by a Darklighter," Leo told him. "Even the worst nightmare can't do that to do."

"Oh, but it can," Chris said, wearily. "I've got a Nightmare demon after me."

"A what?" Phoebe asked.

"A Nightmare demon," Chris repeated. "Or the Sandman's apprentice, as he calls himself."

"I've not heard of one before," Leo said. "What else do you know about him?"

"That he wants me dead. And he can kill me in the dream worlds he creates."

"I'll get the Book," Paige said, and orbed up to the attic.

Chris shifted on the sofa again, and tried to push himself upright. A sharp pain in his head stopped him and caused him to cry out. He fell back against the cushion, a hand clutched to his forehead.

"Take it easy," Phoebe urged, gently squeezing his arm. "You're still very weak."

Piper disappeared and returned with painkillers and a glass of water. Chris took the pills gratefully and washed them down.

After handing the glass back to Piper, he shifted uncomfortably and kept his gaze lowered, uneasy under the scrutinising stares of the two sisters and Leo. He felt vulnerable lying down, but couldn't find the strength to try to sit up again.

It was ironic how they chose to pay him the attention he often craved at a time when he didn't want them to. Not that it wasn't nice that they cared that he had nearly died. It wasn't the affection that bothered him so much, but their curiosity – it was never a good thing to have them curious about him, regardless of the circumstances.

Perhaps it was paranoia, but he could see multiple ways of how a harmless question about his nightmare could lead to being bombarded with questions about who he was, what happened in the future and what his agenda was. After all, it wasn't exactly uncommon for the sisters to jump from one topic to another seemingly unrelated one.

Chris didn't feel up to fending off an interrogation. There were only so many times he could repeat the phrase 'future consequences' in a row before they would get mad. He didn't trust himself, in his current exhausted state, to be able to conjure up a more witty reply and not let something slip, and he certainly didn't have the energy to orb out.

Paige returned with the Book of Shadows and set it down on the coffee table. She opened it up and began flicking through. The others crowded around her, while Chris lay back and shut his eyes, covering them with a hand. He would have enjoyed the removal of their stares were it not for the pounding in his head and the waves of vertigo, which were now sweeping over him regardless of whether he moved or not.

"Here we go: Nightmare demons."

Paige's triumphant words caused Chris to open his eyes and slowly roll his head until he was looking over at them. He couldn't read the Book from where he was, but the youngest sister began reading out the passage so there was no need.

" 'Nightmare demons exist in a different plane, like Sandmen. They have the power to kill sleeping victims by manifesting dreamt injuries into reality.' " Paige sighed. "That's all it says." She threw up her hands. "Nothing about how to stop or vanquish one. Absolutely nada."

They all looked dismayed and worried, glancing back at Chris with sympathy.

"There isn't even a picture," Paige grouched.

"Oh, that's easy. I can add one in if you like," Chris said, dryly. "He's tall, pale and dressed like a nineteenth century dandy."

"Bizarre," Paige muttered.

"Yeah, and rather Dracula-esque," Chris added, frowning thoughtfully.

A wail sounded from the sleepy toddler in the next room.

"Mommy's coming!" Piper called, as she hurried out into the conservatory. "It's time for beddy-byes, I know, honey, I know."

Chris listened, his thoughts slowly changing track.

"Bad mommy, yes," Piper cooed to her fair-haired son. "Come on then, up you come."

Suddenly he reached the memory.

"I need to find Hychek. He knows something." Chris shakily sat up.

"You're not going anywhere," Phoebe declared, easily pushing him back down.

"Who's Hychek?" Leo asked.

"One of my Underworld informants. He…" Chris paused, swallowing the bile that rose to his throat. Moving so much really had been a very bad idea. He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "I spoke to him yesterday and he warned me that a Nightmare demon was interested in Wyatt. He might know something of use."

"Well, you're in no state for trips to the Underworld," Piper stated, having returned with the toddler in her arms.

"Maybe we could go talk to him for you?" Paige suggested.

"No. He's petrified of you three. You would reduce him into a gibbering mush that wouldn't be able to tell you the time of day." Chris tentatively pushed himself upright again and slid his feet to the floor. "I need to be the one to go."

"What you need is rest," Piper corrected, sternly.

"I can't rest," Chris snapped, fighting against the weakness and complaints of his body. "If I go to sleep, I'll be landing myself right back into the Nightmare demon's hands."

"You don't have to sleep to rest," Piper told him, patiently.

Chris slumped back, defeated by his frailty and the sisters' insistence.

"Leo, can you put Wyatt to bed while I rustle up some chicken soup for Chris?" Piper carefully handed the half-asleep child to his father.

"Sure."

Leo orbed up to Wyatt's room and Piper walked off into the kitchen.

"I don't have a cold..." Chris's mumbled sulking faded out. 

While Piper was getting Chris some food, her two sisters went through the Book of Shadows again in vain hope of finding something more. Leo appeared briefly to announce he was going to consult with the other Elders and orbed up.

Chris had severely doubted that he would be able to stomach anything Piper brought him, and so was surprised to find that the warm smell emanating from the bowl she handed him actually reduced his nausea. The familiar smell stirred up tender memories in him that calmed and soothed him.

"It's _your_ soup!" he exclaimed, when his tongue confirmed what his nose was telling him.

Startled, the three sisters looked at him strangely.

"I-I mean it's too good to have come out of a can," Chris fumbled. "It must be homemade."

Piper looked pleased. "It is," she told him, smiling. "I froze some of the last lot I made."

"It's very good!"

"Thank you."

By the time Chris had finished the soup, he was looking a bit healthier. He was feeling better too, his dizziness and nausea finally gone. Though he hadn't been able to get any bread down, Piper's delicious chicken soup had helped restore some of his strength.

It was an hour after leaving the manor that Leo returned. He had found out nothing of use, and none of them would be able to risk sleeping until they knew how to defeat the Nightmare demon. So, it was decided that Chris would have to pay Hychek a visit.

Two visits in twenty-four hours – Chris did not foresee delight on the cowardly tattletale's part.


	5. A Fine Line Betwixt Friend And Enemy

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! - I've been away doing extra mural study for my degree. I'd hoped to have this chapter finished before I went away, but unfortunately didn't have time. However, here it finally is! Updates should now be regular.

* * *

**Part 5: A Fine Line Betwixt Friend And Enemy**

* * *

The blue-white orbs dissipated into the gloom, leaving Chris staggering into the wall, the Underworld tunnel spinning wildly around him. He braced himself against the rough stone and took several deep breaths.

His dizzy thoughts settled enough for him to realise he was already immensely glad he had come alone. He'd fortunately been able to fend off the sisters' attempts to send Leo with him as a guard puppy on sick nurse duty. 'My harmless informant will only cooperate if I'm alone' worked much better and painlessly in its suitable argument than 'future consequences' ever would in its own context.

Chris wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead with a hand that trembled only slightly and cautiously pushed away from the tunnel wall. The dimly lit, rugged surroundings remained still and his stomach was happy to lie still for now at least. Satisfied that he was ready, the part-witch walked under the nearby arched entrance and its concealed charms.

Appreciation point number two: orbing to a spot outside of Hychek's chambers. It meant that his informant hadn't seen his moment of weakness, either. Furthermore, setting off his little intruder alert talismans would sweeten him up, combating most of the annoyance and anxiety he would feel at a second visit so soon after the previous.

Hychek greeted him with moderately nervous eyes and a disgruntled expression. However, as Chris stepped around a sack of gemstones and into the bright candlelight of a rusty chandelier, shock replaced all previously displayed emotion. The demon gaped and Chris realised he perhaps looked as bad as he felt.

"Woah! Man, you look like crap!" Hychek breathed, taken aback.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, trying to draw his shoulders back and give the appearance of strength he didn't have.

"What happened to you? The Nightmare demon?"

"Yeah, and you were wrong." Chris vented some anger into his words. "He's after me, not Wyatt."

"That's what I told you," Hychek protested.

"No, _you said_ he was interested in _my brother_."

"Asking questions, yeah. But it was _your_ back I told you to watch."

Chris fumed and accused the demon of speaking in riddles, but accepted the wooden chair offered to him.

Hychek sat opposite, a small circular table between them. An uncorked bottle of wine and some glasses stood in the centre, but were left untouched by them both.

Fingering the chipped mahogany of his chair's antique arm, Chris took a moment to reflect on the first time he'd sat in this seat.

It was ironic how he dreaded that the sisters would drug him with a truth potion, but hadn't seen it coming from a lower-level demon.

He had failed to foresee Hychek's nervy desire to know everything. The wine had smelt, looked and tasted normal, its secret added ingredient hidden in the crimson depths. He'd watched Hychek pour two drinks from the same bottle and drink heartily from one of the glasses. If Chris were a friend, he would drink too; only a foe would refuse the hospitable gesture.

He'd only taken a sip.

That had been enough to have him spouting out everything, on his knees as he fought futilely against the potent truth potion. Meanwhile, Hychek had been smugly unaffected and answered nothing he cared not to answer. The demon had boasted of his achievement in developing the potion and immunising himself by taking its specifically designed antidote – naturally, also created by his genius - prior to drinking it.

Chris had outwitted him. He'd managed to get a hold of himself and orb out with his glass of spiked wine (before Hychek could finish his personal question about Bianca). By analysising the contents he was able to procure the recipe for the truth potion and produce an antidote.

He had gone back to Hychek, refused to drink or eat anything, and used some impressive telekinetics to put the demon in his place.

However, the damage was already done: Hychek knew Chris's full identity and his connection to Wyatt.

But Chris didn't vanquish Hychek.

Sometimes he doubted his decision, but not enough to throw the little bottle of green liquid. Not yet, anyway. It meant another risk, another danger, another fear pulling taut his shredded nerves, keeping him awake at night. However, Chris didn't allow himself the luxury of easing his stress, for that was no justifiable reason to lose a valuable source of Underworld information, not in his eyes.

Chris knew Hychek was very unlikely to tell anybody his big secret: (a) because no one but the Charmed Ones would give a damn and there was no way the coward would get anywhere near them; (b) because he feared Chris would whip his ass with a vanquishing potion before whatever demon he sold him out to, who was interested for some obscure reason, could kill him.

Sometimes it was nice to speak aloud the word 'brother'.

But that was neither here nor there.

Chris looked over the table at the lower-level demon. His wiry, carrot-coloured hair was sticking to his knobbly forehead.

"What do you know about the Nightmare demon after me?"

Hychek sighed and looked away. "To be honest, not much."

"You're never honest," Chris said, bluntly. "What do you know?"

"Look, Chris, this isn't something I want to get mixed up in. This Nightmare demon is willing to turn on one of his own." Hychek was apologetically dismissive, with a hint of pleading.

"So are you." Chris didn't bat an eyelid at the demon's reluctance to talk.

"I'm a petty trickster after money, luxury, material things, not power. This nightmare guy has much higher aims." A look of anguish filled Hychek's face as he watched Chris thirstily drinking in his words without any sign of relenting his questioning. "He plans to rule the sleeping world and then, once your brother grows up into an all powerful, dark ruler of the waking world, he intends to gain control over him through his dreams."

"And thus the waking world too," Chris added, grimly. The Nightmare demon had wider aims than he had let on to him.

"Exactly."

"What about the Underworld?"

"He isn't interested in us. He has no power down here – demon's don't dream."

"Wait… You said he was asking questions about Wyatt. Where? Here?"

"Of course. I'm not one for visiting the sunny topside now, am I?"

"You mean you spoke to him?" Chris stood up, angrily grabbing across the table for the demon's neck. "You told him about Wyatt and me!"

"No! No!" Hychek cried, leaning back out of Chris's reach.

Chris's arms withdrew, but his hands formed frustrated, threatening fists.

Hychek gulped. "Well, sort of," he amended. "But don't worry, you're big secret is safe!" he quickly added. "I didn't tell him anything that any other demon couldn't have."

Chris restrained his anger, forcing himself to sit back down. He would come back to Hychek's betrayal at a later date.

"But how could he question you?" Chris asked, his mind racing.

"Oh, because we don't dream you mean? And he sure as hell can't come waltzing down here in person since he exists in a different plane!" Hychek laughed at the thought, though he was alone in finding the humour in it.

"Yes," Chris said through gritted teeth, fighting to keep his patience. The pounding in his temples wasn't letting up and fatigue hung around his shoulders like a lead cloak. It was a constant struggle to keep the worst of it hidden.

"Well…" Hychek licked his half-grinning lips and leaned forward, his eyes alight. "He used a human vessel. Had the guy in some kind of sleepwalking state. He orbed down h– "

"What!" Chris gaped in surprise.

"Oh, yeah, the sleepwalking guy was a young Whitelighter," Hychek explained.

Horror had struck Chris. "He's got even more power than I thought…"

"Which is exactly why I don't want to be having this conversation." Hychek slipped off his chair and went over to finger his gemstones for comfort.

"Do you have any idea how he can be stopped?"

Hychek looked across at the young man still sat at his table. "Killing a sleepwalker he's inhabiting might do it. 'Course, you'd have to get him to do that zombie trick and then there's that issue of how you are about killing – what do you call them?"

"Innocents. I won't kill an innocent." It wasn't an option.

However, it did remind Chris of a detail of his last encounter with the Nightmare demon. The demon had released him when he was on the very brink of death. Perhaps there was more to his flippant 'can't have dead bodies littering up the place' comment than met the eye. Maybe if he died while the Nightmare demon was still connected to him, the demon would die too. It was a possibility to keep in the back of his mind, in case it came to the need to take such a path. The Nightmare demon must have plans to kill others after he was done with him, for he was very unlikely to be content to be idyll until Wyatt grew up. That thought led Chris on to wonder if perhaps this was the demon that turned Wyatt.

Chris kept these thoughts quiet and asked aloud, "How did the Nightmare demon know about Wyatt?"

"He said a witch he'd been messing with the dreams of, knew about a twice-blessed child – a boy with greater power than the world had ever seen before," Hychek replied.

"And then he found out the rest by asking questions in the Underworld and you answering them."

"Other demons told him stuff, too," Hychek declared, defensively. "It wasn't just me."

"That doesn't excuse you," Chris told him, coldly.

Hychek was silent and still.

"I need to know more about the Nightmare demon," Chris said. "There has to be a way I can defeat him in my dreams."

"He did vaguely mention something about the dreamer's belief," Hychek told him, hesitantly. "I got the impression that the person's belief in him was connected to his power."

"The stronger the sleeper's belief in the demon, the stronger the demon's power?"

"Maybe."

"Well, that doesn't exactly do me much good! I _know_ the demon exists."

"Perhaps its more to do with belief in the demon's power…" Hychek's face was screwed up with thoughtfulness.

Chris was deep in thought as well. "If I believe that a dreamt cut can make me bleed, I will bleed?"

Hychek shrugged, suddenly becoming utterly noncommittal.

"I really don't know. This is all guesswork," the demon said, frankly. "And I for one don't like making a move based on guesswork."

"I haven't got a choice," Chris replied. "It's all I have."

He got up to leave.

"Be careful," Hychek warned.

"What do you care?" Chris asked, scornfully.

"Hey, you might not be my friend, but you're as close to one as I have."

"That's sad. I should vanquish you just for that."

"And I don't think I'd fare too well in a future with a twice-blessed, Excalibur-wielding overlord," Hychek added.

"I can assure you, you don't."

No one did.

Chris orbed out.


	6. If I Die Before I Wake

**Part 6: If I Die Before I Wake**

* * *

Chris materialised in Wyatt's bedroom. The three sisters and Leo were crowded around the cot, talking in hushed voices. 

He hated that he needed them.

Chris glanced down at the sleeping child, whose little face was calm and innocent, fair eyelashes flickering slightly in response to peaceful dreams.

He sighed, resignedly. It wasn't just his own life at stake.

"Is he safe?" Piper asked, anxiously, looking up from her sleeping son to turn to Chris. "Should I wake him?"

It was unsettling to have a frightened Piper asking him for answers and advice. Chris felt a strange falling sensation, as if the floor had disappeared from beneath him, though he did not move.

"Let him sleep," Chris replied, tenderly. "He shouldn't be in any danger. At least, not yet. However, the sooner I get back to sleep and know exactly where the Nightmare demon is, the better."

"What did you find out from your informant?" Leo asked.

"That what the Nightmare demon makes me dream should only be able to hurt me in reality if I believe it's real."

"_Should_?" Paige queried, noticing Chris's choice of words despite his confident tone.

"If something goes wrong, Leo will be on hand to heal me before things go as far as they did last time."

"What about vanquishing the demon?" Phoebe asked. "Finding a way to stop him killing you is a good thing, but it isn't enough. We need to know how to send him down."

"I'm guessing that the Nightmare demon's arrogance will make him reveal enough for me to work something out," Chris said, unconcerned. "And if he doesn't, I'll at least gain some more information by facing him again. I can always wake up, construct plan B and go back."

"_You're guessing_?" Paige queried the truth hidden behind his confidence again. "Are you also guessing that you'll _be_ _able_ to wake up if things go wrong?"

"The Nightmare demon may be the one that turns Wyatt," Chris said, in a businesslike tone that seemed to ignore Paige. "There are other possibilities I've been looking into as well. Navacar, a Carrion demon, is currently away gaining a following, in preparation to come after you and Wyatt. He should strike in two to three weeks from now. You may have some trouble from Rinide, Yelligh and Brecin. They're in the Book of Shadows. Instructions for vanquishing Rinide and Brecin are in there. Yelligh may take a little inspiration, but shouldn't be too tough a match for you three together. There's also a Scath demon that'll surface in a month or so from now. He's another possibility."

"Should I be taking notes?" Paige asked, bitterly.

"Chris, maybe we should wait until we know more about what we're dealing with," Phoebe suggested.

"No," Chris stated, firmly. He glanced again at the sleeping child.

"If Wyatt is threatened by this demon, it has to be stopped before it can touch him. Chris is here to protect Wyatt from evil at whatever the cost, it's why he came." Piper spoke with a faint hint of hesitancy, knowing she may well be condemning the young man, but her priority was her son.

"Sleep in here," Leo said, gesturing towards the full-size bed. "That way we can keep an eye on you both."

Phoebe sighed and handed Chris a piece of notepaper, as he settled on top of the bed.

"It's an adaptation of a spell we once used to fall asleep to confront the hidden meanings in our dreams," she explained.

"Oh, when the Tracer demon was killing the Sandmen and taking their sand bags," Chris said, nodding in comprehension.

"Are all our demon exploits in those future, history books of yours?" Paige asked, rather indignantly.

"Pretty much." Chris smirked. "You're a great read."

Paige tilted her head with a somewhat amused expression. However, her face fell again when Chris resumed his determined air and looked at the spell Phoebe had given him.

"I'm gonna get some coffee to keep the rest of us awake," Paige declared, not wanting to watch Chris submit himself to the Nightmare demon's deadly dreamland.

Lying on his side, Chris took a deep breath and read the spell.

" 'Let I who waken from my sleep, return at once to slumber deep.' "

Almost at once, his eyelids dropped and his head sunk into the pillow. His hand relaxed and fell to the covers, the paper drifting to the floor.

Phoebe picked up a blanket from a nearby chair and went to drape it over him. However, Piper caught her arm.

"Wait. Don't. We need to be able to see if the Nightmare demon injures him," Piper explained, uncomfortably.

Phoebe silently refolded the blanket and sat on the end of the bed, hugging it tightly to her as she watched Chris's eyes moving beneath their lids.

* * *

Chris found himself in the familiar endless corridor of doors. He shivered, the air piercingly icy, his breath visible as white mist. 

The disembodied voice of the Nightmare demon greeted him, dark pleasure evident in the deep, haunting tones.

_Welcome back to my Doorways to Oblivion, Christopher._

_TBC..._

* * *

(Author's Note: The spell Chris uses to send himself to sleep is an adaptation of that used by the sisters in Season 5's _Sand Francisco Dreamin'_.) 


	7. Never Dream Of Dying

A/N: I'm back at uni and already snowed under with work (I'd forgotten how near to impossible my degree is!), so updates are highly likely to be spasmodic from now on. However, rest assured this fic will never ever be abandoned - updates may be weeks apart, but it will get finished, I promise!

A/N 2: One evening when I had some free time and was supposed to be writing this, my muse trotted off down another path and so although that slightly delayed the writing of this chapter, it does mean that you get a short one-shot (_Holding You Holding Me_) to read as well. I hope you like it!

* * *

**Part 7: Never Dream Of Dying**

* * *

Chris headed straight for the nearest blank, metal door. He threw it open and strode into the pitch-blackness without a second thought.

The fathomless whirlpool of bright blue and indigo caught him at once, taking away his spatial comprehension and threatening a resurfacing of the chicken soup. Lightning flashed intermittently.

Then it was over and Chris found himself standing on a roadside path. Bleak terraced houses stretched down its length on both sides and streetlamps stood tall and thin at intervals, but offered no light to combat the clouding over of the sky. The silent street was devoid of pedestrians and traffic, no life showed through the net-curtains hung at the house windows and there wasn't a skulking cat or fluttering bird to be seen. It was eerie to say the least.

Thunder boomed from a distance, black beasts of clouds rushing forward to banish the paler and weaker, casting the day into a mock night.

_Let's try again, shall we?_ offered the dark disembodied tones of the Nightmare demon.

"Bring it on," Chris muttered, shrugging off the unease the creepiness of the locale gave him.

Thunder boomed again, startlingly loud and close this time, the clouds bruising deep purple. Rain began to pelt down in straight lines.

Then the heavy raindrops weren't water anymore.

Arrows were failing from the ferocious sky. Darklighter arrows. They fell as straight and numerous as the raindrops.

It was his telekinetic power that saved him. Chris swept his arms over his head, magically keeping a space clear around him, as he ran for his life. His footfalls were quick and light on the pavement, taking him past the silent, unblinking houses.

The road sloped upwards, rapidly steepening. Chris's breath became harsher in his throat and the arrows ricocheted off the ground, threatening to stab him in the leg. He lowered one arm to ward them off, while continuing to keep the falling arrows at bay with his other. It was draining, both physically and magically. The sky showed no sign of relenting and the steepness of the road was forcing his pace down to a stumbling jog.

"This isn't real at all!" Chris cried, between gasping breaths. "A Darklighter firing at me is one thing, but arrows can't just fall from the sky!"

_Wrong, oh, so very wrong._ There was satisfaction amongst the pity in the Nightmare demon's voice. _I grow stronger all the time, Chrissy-boy. I can make even the make-believe real now. _

That didn't sound good.

The street was now so steep that Chris had to climb up on his hands and knees, the terraced houses alongside at an impossible and bizarre angle. He swatted the arrows away with his magic, but he needed his hands for climbing now too, and the poisoned tips were getting dangerously close to his shoulders.

_I can hear your mortal heart thumping: lub-dub, lub-dub! _the Nightmare demon called, happily. _But you can't keep this up forever! Tick-tock, tick-tock… _

"Can't we talk about this for a minute?" Chris yelled, desperately.

A poisoned arrow soared past, a hairsbreadth from his cheek.

_Ok. _

The demon's answer was simple and amiable.

Suddenly the street was stripped away and Chris was plonked in a different dreamscape, a sickening twist of his stomach sending him staggering across an immaculately trimmed lawn.

"Crumpet?"

Chris blinked against the brightness of the sun and looked across at the Nightmare demon, who was sat at a little table gesturing with a china plate. The smell of the hot buttered crumpets piled high on the plate did nothing to ease Chris's nausea.

"No?" The demon raised his delicate eyebrows. Then a cruel smile twitched at the corner of his mouth and he set the plate back down on the prim white tablecloth. "Perhaps some tea, then. Would you like Chinese or Indian?"

Wondering what the heck the demon was prattling on about, Chris's chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and take in his new surroundings.

They were in a landscaped garden in the rolling grounds of an old English manor house, which stood handsome and proud behind them. The tall windows of this house showed movement within, as servants milled about inside and out. Peacocks called to each other from amongst the trees and a lively spaniel bounded about on the lawn teasing a hedgehog. Above them all, the sky was clear and pale blue, an early afternoon sun warming everything with its comfortable glow.

The Nightmare demon in his nineteenth century tailoring was perfectly in situ. He acted it too; his legs loosely crossed as he lounged in his wicker chair and sipped from a dainty blue and white teacup.

"If you won't eat or drink anything, at least take a seat," the demon instructed, his cup lightly clattering as he gently lowered it to its saucer. "Don't just stand there dithering, boy!"

Scowling, Chris pulled back a chair and stiffly sat down facing his omnipotent adversary.

"What exactly is it you wanted to talk about?" The demon took another sip of tea.

"How are you able to do all this?" Chris asked, gesturing to encompass their fabricated environment.

The Nightmare demon chuckled, amused and patient. "You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."

"What?" Chris stared at him blankly.

"Tell me your big secret and I'll toss you a tidbit or two."

"I don't have a big secret," Chris declared, stubbornly.

The demon laughed again. "Of course you do. No one seems to know why _you_ came back to 'save' the future. It couldn't have been a decision made by the Elders or some similar committee. A foolish child like you isn't a realistic choice. Sure you're expendable, but no one would risk sending someone so sure to bungle everything up."

Chris determinedly kept himself as poker-faced as possible, the slight tightening and grinding of his jaw not enough to give the extent of his emotion away.

"No, you have a personal interest in this quest," the demon said, with surety. He leant forward, his stare boring into Chris's skull, the greyish oceans in his eyes constantly and subtly changing colour. "What did Wyatt do to you?"

"He killed my fiancée." Chris allowed anger to flash into his eyes for a moment.

"Aaw, poor baby," the demon cooed, leaning back again and mock pouting. "So you're doing all this for the love of some silly girl who got herself killed by the big bad overlord, eh? Didn't have the strength to directly get your vengeance and couldn't live without her, hmm? I should've known!"

"If I'm so useless and sure to fail, why are you bothering to eliminate me?" Chris asked, with an arrogant cock of his head.

"Did I say you were sure to fail? Well, I take it back. Love can be a very power-giving motive." Amusement flickered darkly around the edges of his friendly expression.

The demon refilled his cup with a matching little teapot and Chris waited quietly while he lifted it to his lips and sipped.

Lowering the cup and staring down into it, the demon ran a manicured finger around its rim.

"Now tell me the real reason."

His eyes flashed up to lock onto Chris's, blazing darkly and potently.

Chris couldn't stop himself from gasping and pressing back in his chair.

"A lost love isn't justifiable for the need to be kept secret."

"Yes, it is," Chris insisted. "If anyone knew I wasn't sent back by someone, they wouldn't think I'm capable of changing things."

"They don't need to know that to see you're a waste of space and time," the demon replied, nastily.

"Then why don't you let me go?"

"Maybe I like a little sport. Cricket, badminton… And torture."

"Everyone has their hobbies." Chris shrugged, easily. "Mine is vanquishing demons."

The demon chuckled. "Very nice. Touché!"

Chris smiled grimly back at him.

"Well, if you're going to insist on not accepting my hospitable gesture of tea and crumpets, shall we get on with things?" The demon set down his teacup. "What should I prepare for next time? Would you have preferred sandwiches or perhaps iced buns? Or- "

"Fine, let's get on with it," Chris cut in, exhuming confidence.

The Nightmare demon grinned and clapped his hands once.

At once the manor house and its picturesque grounds were gone, replaced with a jolt of the senses by a draughty, gloomy corridor of what appeared to be a castle.

A torch burned in its iron holder, spitting and stinking of oil. With a chattering squeak, a large black rat ran along the bottom of the damp wall.

Chris sighed, wondering if he'd made the wrong choice in opting to change dream world.

The sound of rustling silk reached him. He turned sharply and saw a young woman coming around the corner.

She was wearing a beautiful cream dress that was drawn in at her tiny waist by a gold sash and then cascaded down to the floor, hiding her delicate slippered feet as she came to a startled stop. The low cut of the neckline showed the quickening of her breath, a large ruby pendant rising and falling with her bare chest. Her hair was in soft blonde curls over her shoulders, half pinned back under a tall, cone-shaped hat, which was gold with a fine lace veil falling from the peak like a flag behind her. Wide, bright green eyes stared at him from beneath long lashes and her pink lips were in a pretty, surprised 'O'.

"Are you one of them?" the girl asked Chris, fearfully.

"One of whom?"

"The assassins. The castle is full of them, lurking around in the dark waiting for a chance to strike."

"Does someone want to kill you, then?" Chris asked, wondering if the girl was an innocent trapped like him or perhaps a deadly trap.

"Yes. Oh, I am so afraid!" She took a step towards him. "Is someone trying to kill you, too?"

"Yes."

"I can help you get out of here. I know a way, but I can't do it alone – the door is too heavy for me to push open."

Chris stared at the girl in shock. Was this chick for real? He was used to the intelligence, strength and bravery of the Charmed sisters, which was far from coming just from their wiccan powers.

Tears welled up in the girl's eyes, as she looked at him pleadingly.

"Ok! Sure. I'll help you," Chris told her, hastily.

The girl clasped her hands together and smiled with such relief and gratitude that Chris feared she would fling herself into his arms.

She did.

The torch chose that moment to splutter, leaving the castle's corridor in darkness. It alit again just in time to glint off the sharp blade of a plunging jewel-encrusted dagger.

Cold metal bit deep into Chris's flesh, evoking a terrible burning.

It answered his question – the girl was a trap.

She slipped off his shoulder, grinning cruelly at the pain lines in his face. With a sudden movement, she yanked the dagger out of his belly and he cried in agony, almost toppling over.

She twirled the blood-covered blade admiringly in her hand, a look of triumph and dark delight morphing her pretty features into hideousness.

Then she wiped the dagger clean on a lacy handkerchief and slipped it back into its hiding place in her voluptuous skirts. One last cruel smile and she was gone with a rustling of silk and padding of slippers.

Chris's hands clutched his stomach, blood pooling between his fingers. He sunk down onto his knees and hunched over, rocking in response to the pain. His breathing was ragged and sweat dripped from his pallid forehead.

_Déjà vu?_ the Nightmare demon's disembodied voice asked, cheerily.

Chris ignored him, which wasn't difficult when the fiery agony in his belly was such a strong distraction.

"This isn't real. This isn't real." Chris repeated it like a mantra, between clenched teeth.

However, there was no disputing the pain.

It hurt so much.

Too much.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut tight.

But it would be okay, he reassured himself. Leo would heal him in the real world.

* * *

"Oh my God! He's bleeding!" Phoebe cried, staring in horror at the red stain spreading across the front of Chris's shirt.

"Leo, quick!" Piper waved her hands urgently.

The Elder sprang forward and held his palms out over Chris's abdomen. Golden, healing light shone down onto the growing patch of crimson.

Nothing happened.

"Something's blocking me," Leo explained, anxiously. "I can't heal him."

_To Be Continued..._


	8. Deadly Dreamscapes

**Part 8: Deadly Dreamscapes**

* * *

"Chocolate éclair?" 

An oblong pastry, oozing with rich cream and topped with chocolate icing, was shoved in front of his nose.

"No?" The Nightmare demon withdrew the cake and placed it on the plate he had balanced on his knee. He raised his fingers to lick the cream off them. "You really are a very poor guest."

Chris frowned and blinked against the bright sunlight, scarcely believing what his awakening senses were telling him.

His limp weight was being supported by the plush scarlet velvet of a chaise lounge, which had been brought out onto the lawn next to the little table with its prim white cloth. From where he lay, Chris could see the familiar expansive house and the tireless dog still bothering the hedgehog.

_I passed out in a dream world…_ That was a conundrum Chris really wasn't feeling up to pondering on.

_Why am I not dead?_ When the darkness had begun to encroach on his vision, greying the sight of the widening pool of his blood on the castle floor, Chris had thought he was done for – if Leo were able to help him, he would have done so already.

Then another thought stuck him. A worrying thought. If he had been about to die, the Nightmare demon should have released him into the waking world to prevent himself from being handed over to Death along with him. However, Chris reminded himself, the idea that his previous release had more to it than to not 'have dead bodies littering up the place' was just a theory.

It looked likely that his failsafe was as hopeless as his chances of defeating the demon by any other means.

A hollow feeling of doom settled within Chris as he realised that, in fact, just about everything he 'knew' about the Nightmare demon was made up of theories.

He could be wrong about _everything_.

A throbbing ache in his abdomen was making itself known – a reminder of the gift from a jewelled dagger and its wielder, both as potentially deadly as they had been beautiful. Distracted from his thoughts, Chris's gaze and hands moved down to the spot where he had been stabbed.

The large bloodstain around the tear in his shirt was darkening as it dried, uncomfortably damp where it stuck to his skin. There was no fresh crimson fluid to keep the stain bright, which Chris took to be a good thing. Suddenly, his heart leapt – perhaps Leo had managed to heal him after all!

His fingers easily parted open his shirt, someone having already undone some of the buttons. Disappointment was swiftly followed by a fresh wave of bewilderment, as his fingertips brushed over a thick white bandage.

He started to carefully pull back the top edge, when a sharp slap on the back of his hand stopped him at the same time as the eruption of fiery pain did.

Going limp again and feeling decidedly unwell, Chris's unsteady gaze fell on the Nightmare demon, who was bending over him with an admonishing expression.

"It seems you're not a very good patient either," the demon reproached. "I did not put that bandage on for you to take straight off again!"

Chris looked helplessly up at the demon, his mind racing with even more questions.

"When are you going to learn some manners, Christopher? Or at least some sense!" He huffed and shook his head in disapproval.

Swallowing thickly, Chris couldn't even think of a reply let alone get one past his lips.

"Now, sit up – _slowly_ – and eat something," the Nightmare demon instructed, sternly. "You're going to need to boost your strength if we are to continue."

Not knowing what else to do, Chris complied. He carefully eased his tired and hurting body into a more upright position, extremely grateful to have the raised end of the chaise lounge to lean his back against. Despite his care, the fiery dragon stirred in the deep wound in his abdomen and he winced. However, he had been expecting the pain this time and managed to bite back a gasp.

As Chris accepted a blue and white china teacup in slightly trembling hands, the burning gradually extinguished to a steady smouldering. But the lessening of the pain didn't bring him any peace.

Chris politely sipped the drink, playing 'tea party' with the omnipotent demon that had him trapped in a dream world, and all the while a feeling of depressive gloom was descending on him.

He was alive, but it was hopeless. He was no match for the Nightmare demon. He was just being toyed with.

* * *

Grossly deformed branches slick with a black mould twisted over his head, a thick mesh of sickly wood that blocked out the sky. Darker indistinguishable shapes moved amongst the deep shadows between the tightly packed tree trunks on either side of the trail. He swung the lantern towards them, but they always fled before he was able to catch sight of their form. With his heart pounding wildly in his chest, he could do nothing but follow the narrow clear strip through the unnatural woodland, his way illuminated only by the eerie silver light from the strange lantern. He had found the ornate metal case lit at his feet upon his arrival in this dreamscape. Its ghostly light seemed to suggest that it housed a miniature moon rather than a flame, and its icy cold handle was slowly numbing his hand. 

The cream cakes that the Nightmare demon had insisted he ate lay uncomfortably in Chris's tense stomach, unhappy companions with the chicken soup that Piper had given him in what seemed like a lifetime ago. He kept his free hand clamped over his abdomen, which somehow managed to burn with renewed vigour each time he took a step, but he gritted his teeth and grew used to the pain. His mind focused on his wide eyes and alert ears that searched for the attack he knew would eventually come.

However, the moon-lantern showed him only a seemingly endless straight trail through the grotesque woodland and none of the insubstantial dark shapes stepped out onto the bare track.

Suddenly a similarity dawned on him, and he realised what he had to do.

Chris stopped and took a deep uneasy breath, turning to face the closely packed tree trunks. The woodland was an architectural tribute to the corridor of Doorways to Oblivion. Its appearance was different, but the fundamentals were the same.

The Nightmare demon wanted him to step off the path and into the trees.

Chris stepped forward, the silver light jaggedly dancing over the trees as fear shook the hand that held the lantern. He slipped through a gap between two wide trunks, moving carefully so as to not brush against the thick, wet mould that covered them.

Slowly he moved deeper into the woodland, and a sickly stench of decay grew steadily stronger. There seemed no sign of an end or change to the dense forest and doubts began to flutter within him. Glancing back over his shoulder, Chris couldn't tell from which way he had come. He felt his throat constrict and turned to face the way he was going again, having no choice but to plough on.

He could sense otherworldly presence and movement close around him, just beyond the boundary of the moon-lantern, but nothing had tried to attack…yet.

Suddenly, to Chris's great surprise, he noticed that the forest was thinning. He could see moonlight through the trees, ahead of the lantern's beam.

Something soft brushed past his ankle. Chris jumped back, a yelp escaping his lips. His back hit a tree trunk and he felt the mould soak through his shirt, as he watched a small dark shape disappear back into the shadows.

He swung the moon-lantern about, but the eerie light didn't reveal any creatures among the trees. Shakily recovering his breath, Chris continued on towards the light ahead.

As he stepped out into a clearing, Chris was conscious of dark shapes leaving the tree line and moving ahead of him across the open grass. The moonlight revealed them as sleek black cats with demonic red eyes.

They streamed out of the trees, all heading towards the lone occupant of the clearing – a ramshackle old cottage with plumes of lilac smoke rising from a stout chimney. Straggly ivy twisted up the grey stone walls and obscured much of the grimy windows.

Chris numbly followed the cats towards the cottage, feeling as if he'd stepped into a terrifying fairytale.

Suddenly the wooden front door was violently flung open, emitting a piercing wail akin to agony from its hinges. Like a dark wind, billowing shreds of black satin and lace crossed the threshold and floated out onto the moonlit grass.

The material settled, falling about the female frame of the ghastly creature. Then the head was thrown up, discarding a long black veil and sending flames of deep copper-coloured hair falling backwards, to reveal a face.

Gasping, Chris staggered and nearly fell to the ground as horrified shock wracked him.

"_Bianca_…"

A dark disembodied laugh filled the moonlit clearing encircled by the sickly woodland. The Nightmare demon was finally making himself heard.

_Yes, that's right, my poor dear boy. It's your dead sweetheart. I've given her new life… _

"How?" Chris's voice was frail and breathy, his eyes fixed on the face of his once-fiancée.

_As you grow weaker, I can pull images out of your memory. We're going to have so much fun… _

The demon's voice was cheerful and excited.

Chris found himself feeling the exact opposite to his adversary. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he dropped to his knees, unable to hold the food in his stomach any longer and throwing it out onto the grass.

Bent over and breathing heavily, Chris waited to be sure he'd gotten everything out.

"You never were one to give in easily." Bianca's confident tones were unmistakable.

Chris looked up and wiped his mouth with the back of a clammy hand. Bianca was stood less than six-foot away, regarding him with a mixed expression.

"When will you learn, Chris?" She sighed in frustration. "You're not all-powerful. There are some things you just can't beat and there's no point in trying."

The moonlight stripped the bronze from her skin, casting her into ghostly glittering pallidness. Her brown eyes didn't hold any warmth and were circled by an unhealthy grey that also tinged her cheekbones and lips.

Chris unsteadily got to his feet, setting his jaw against the sharp, heated complaint from his wounded abdomen. At eye-level with Bianca now, he took a couple of steps towards her.

She reached out, torn black satin and shreds of lace falling away from her ghostly arm. Unable to stop himself, Chris took hold of her offered hand and despite its unearthly chill, he didn't let go.

"I loved you, Chris," Bianca whispered, regret in her voice now. "But you just don't seem to be able to accept when you've been beaten." A tear slid down her cheek, glistening in the moonlight. "You're naïve to think you can stop him."

Déjà vu. '_We were naïve to think we could change anything, to stop him.' _Fear stabbed into Chris's chest, as reality managed to get through the intoxicating fabrication. This was really the Nightmare demon speaking, not Bianca… How much did the demon know?

"You don't believe that. I _have _to stop him," Chris said, earnestly, and squeezed her hand tighter. "The world depends upon it."

"Always with the melodrama!" Bianca yanked her hand out of his hold and roughly pushed him away. "He's given me new life and all you want to do is kill him!"

Regaining his balance, Chris's face was grim. However, he was relieved that Bianca's little outburst seemed to prove the Nightmare demon was still ignorant of potentially volatile information.

Bianca was stalking back towards the dilapidated cottage and Chris followed her.

It made his heart ache seeing her image like this. The tattered satin and lace fluttered around her familiar feminine body, her long slender legs carrying her in angry strides on feet he noticed were bare. Despite her clothing and rather ghostly air, she looked exactly the same. But there was no beating heart in her chest. It was horrible to see her portrayed like this – mystical and beautiful, but soulless.

She was being used against him again, which was the worst thing of all.

At the open doorway to the cottage, Bianca stopped and Chris came to a halt at a short distance behind her.

"Bianca…" he whispered, softly, an unfathomable depth of sadness in his tone. "I'm sorry."

Though his soft words were not meant for her, the witch whirled around to face him in a swirl of black lace and satin, her soulless eyes boring into him.

"Uh! You're so weak!" she cried, pitilessly. "Look at your eyes all welling up with tears – in a minute you're going to be positively bawling like a baby! Dear little Christopher, always the baby…"

Panic flared within Chris. Did the Nightmare demon know?

Closing the gap between them, Bianca placed her hand on Chris's shoulder and moved her mouth to his ear.

"I think it's time the shroud was lifted," she whispered, darkly.

Chris froze.

Still leaning on his shoulder, Bianca placed her other hand on his chest. For a frantic moment Chris feared the Nightmare demon would use her to strip him of his powers, but then her hand travelled downwards, apparently having a different purpose.

He looked down and watched her hand slip down his midline until it reached his navel. It hovered there for a moment. Then slid in a downward diagonal to an exact spot on the right side of his lower abdomen, where it stopped and gently pressed.

Chris grunted in pain and moved backwards, trying to slip out of her embrace. She clung tight to his shoulder and pressed his wound again, a little harder this time.

Biting back a cry, Chris roughly twisted out of her hold and stumbled away to a safe distance. Something brushed against his legs and Chris looked down to see a black cat weaving around him. It stared up at him with its fiendish red eyes and hissed viciously, before slinking away.

Chris looked across at Bianca to find her lips in a cruel twist, a deadly playful look in her soulless eyes.

"You want me to fight you?" Chris yelled, angrily. "Is that it?"

"I want you to try," the witch replied in a hiss akin to the demonic cat's. She stepped forward, an energy ball appearing in her palm.

Ready for it, Chris orbed out. The blue energy dissipated over the moonlit clearing, as Chris reformed behind Bianca.

A blast of telekinetic magic sent her sprawling facedown in the grass.

Chris turned to look for a weapon beyond the doorway to the cottage, unwilling to destroy Bianca with his bare hands.

He didn't see her shimmer.

Suddenly hands gripped his shoulders and he was flung against the outside wall of the house.

He moved forward, but a swift kick sent him slamming back into the stone.

The flames consumed him then, blood flowing hot and free down his abdomen. His breath was gone along with his wits and he collapsed into an almost senseless heap on the ground.

A hand touched his chin and tipped his head back, forcing his pain-glazed eyes to look up into Bianca's soulless face. She conjured an athame into her empty palm and held it against his throat.

"Don't you see the reality of the situation now?" Bianca asked.

There was a glint of remorse in Chris's pain-filled eyes, as Bianca suddenly began to choke. She dropped the athame and staggered back, her hands grasping futilely at her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock and panic, and she began to turn faintly blue, unable to get any air into her lungs.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was over. Bianca lay lifeless, a silvery ghost in the moonlight.

Sat with his head resting against the wall of the cottage, Chris stared numbly ahead. His hands clutched his stomach, blood trickling between them. The pain was deep.

He had just pulled away the blood-soaked bandage and revealed the wound, the stitches torn and useless. And at the same time he'd noticed the swelling, which was spread across most of his lower abdomen. It had told him what he'd suspected all along.

The wound that the girl in the castle had given him was fatal without the healing powers of Leo or a human surgeon. It was just going to take a while to kill him.

_Now you know the game we're playing. _

The disembodied voice was sombre and menacing.

_Shall we continue? _

It wasn't really a question. The ground was sharply torn away from beneath him and replaced.

Chris found himself in a graveyard on the side of a hill, his back against a gravestone. He hastily lurched to his feet.

Aided by the waning light of a sun sinking behind the peak of the hill, Chris rebound the sodden bandage around his abdomen as tightly and efficiently as he could. Then he began to stagger through the assortment of memorials to the dead.

He passed by crumbling mausoleums and under stone angels with hands clasped in prayer, as he slowly picked his way between the numerous headstones to reach an undetermined place. Exhausted and hurting, Chris had had enough. He saw no way to beat the Nightmare demon. He had no doubt that his mortal wound had become reality in the waking world, and that Leo was unable to heal him while the Nightmare demon was in control. All Chris could see for himself was pain and suffering until inevitable death.

Chris stopped and leant against a headstone, panting slightly.

He heard a short disembodied sigh.

_I think it's time some different blood was spilt on the scene. _

As the Nightmare demon finished his announcement, a bright white flash enveloped the hillside graveyard and blinded Chris.

His sight returned as grey shadows that gradually regained their shapes and colours. Almost at once, he noticed the new addition to the dreamscape – someone was sat on the peak of the hill. A little someone.

A young child with fair hair…

Chris's throat constricted and he desperately began stumbling upwards.

…Wyatt.

_To Be Continued..._

* * *

It's been a long while since I updated... Is anyone still reading this or has it been forgotten?.?.? 

(Additional disclaimer: The line of dialogue from _Chris-Crossed_ is, of course, not mine.)


	9. Lucid Dreamer

A/N: Originally I wasn't going to flip back to the waking world for a while, but some of you said you wanted to know what was going on there, so I've added in a little scene - hope it fits the bill!

* * *

**Part 9: Lucid Dreamer**

* * *

"Leo, the bleeding's getting worse again," Phoebe said, her voice rising with anxiety. 

"Try again," Piper urged.

"Piper, I've already –"

"Just do it."

Leo moved over to the bed and held his hands above Chris's abdomen. The golden light shone down, but the wound and the blood remained. Just like all the other times he'd tried.

He sighed, resignedly. "It's no good. Something's still blocking me."

"Someone you mean," Paige corrected, dryly.

"The Nightmare demon," Phoebe voiced.

Paige nodded grimly.

Leo looked over at Piper, who was staring down at the unconscious young man. She was pale and nervy, twisting her hands together. He didn't think he'd ever seen her look so guilty and worried at the same time.

"I'm sorry, Piper. There's nothing I can do," he apologised. "He's on his own."

Piper turned away. She went over to the cot and looked down at her sleeping son. Reaching down to stroke his fair hair, Piper smiled gently. He was sleeping deeply.

* * *

The sky was a sickly yellow with deep red streaks that trailed from the falling sun like blood. Crimson light bathed the peak of the hill and the young child there, but night was fast encroaching on the steep hillside, hiding the crumbling ruins of old, ill-kept gravestones in shadow. 

Chris was wheezing as he staggered up between the numerous headstones, stumbling over the unseen rubble, a hand clasped against the desperate burning in his belly.

Finally, he reached the summit. He swayed precariously for a moment, like a drunk. Before collapsing at the feet of his infant brother.

"Wyatt…" Chris stretched a hand towards the child, who was stood up and staring out across the fabricated expanse. The little boy looked down at him, and his lower lip pushed out in childish distress.

"It's ok," Chris slurred, fighting to stop himself from passing out. He knew this was no idle fabrication of the Nightmare demon's magic. His own whitelighter powers were astutely tuned to sense his brother. This was really him. The boy's mind was in the nightmarish plane, same as his. The Nightmare demon had Wyatt in his grasp.

Behind Wyatt the air distorted, as the malevolent demon shimmered in.

Chris scrabbled in the dirt to drag himself between his brother and their captor.

The Nightmare demon brushed an imaginary speck of lint from his immaculate frock coat, before regarding Chris with a companionable expression.

"How's the poorly tummy?" the demon asked, brightly. "I expect you've torn all the stitches out by now, what with all this running and falling about."

Chris said nothing.

"No doubt you've got internal bleeding. And also, you really ought to be considering the very serious likelihood of herniation. I hope you've got that bandage tied nice and tight." The demon crinkled his nose in distaste. "I don't really want your guts spewing out all over my pretty dreamscape."

Chris's response was silence once more.

The demon waited, tapping his patent leather shoe and staring at Chris expectantly.

With an impatient sigh, the Nightmare demon broke the quiet. "This is ridiculous," he muttered. "I'm going to have to provide a tumbleweed to pass by in a minute." He sighed again. "Well?" He gave an enthused gesture towards the young child. "Well, aren't you going to introduce me?"

"You know who he is," Chris deadpanned.

"Yes, I know _who _he is," the demon replied, impatiently. "I also know _what_ he is. However, what I don't know is who he is to _you_."

"I won't let you harm him."

The Nightmare demon folded his arms. "Now, see, that's exactly what I'm talking about." He tilted his head knowingly. "Such self-sacrifice speaks to me not of angry vengeance, but tenderness. Tenderness towards the boy."

"He's an innocent child."

"No, he's the son of a Charmed One and a whitelighter, who will grow up into the most powerful being in the world, and one day he will kill your fiancée, or so you tell me."

"Not if I protect him."

"Protect him? _Protect_ him? Those aren't the words of a vengeful fiancé," the demon jeered.

"He hasn't done anything yet. He's just a child."

"If you really were a vengeful fiancé, you would kill him."

"I am," Chris replied, darkly. "And maybe I will."

The demon laughed. "Don't be ridiculous! If you were seriously considering killing him, you wouldn't be standing – or rather, kneeling in a most wobbly fashion – between him and me."

"I didn't say I was considering letting anyone else kill him."

"What are you? Some sort of dithering Hamlet?" the demon cried. "You want the glory of the kill for your own sweet revenge, but you're going to take your time over deciding whether or not he deserves it?"

"No, I know he doesn't deserve it," Chris replied, calmly. "He was turned by evil. I'm here to stop that happening."

"Yes, turned, I know… It's an interesting detail…" The Nightmare demon smiled, darkly and knowingly.

Chris swallowed nervously. _Oh God, is he really the one?_ The thought made him feel hollow.

He glanced over his shoulder at Wyatt, who stared back at him.

Turning again to the Nightmare demon, Chris took a shaky breath.

"Let him go," he ordered.

"What?" The demon looked at him blankly. Then he frowned. "Don't you take that demanding tone with me, my boy. Remember who is the captor and who are the captives here."

"I've already told you I won't let you harm him," Chris said, getting unsteadily to his feet. "So you might as well let him go."

"But Wyatt and I haven't got to know each other yet!" the demon replied, cheerily, stepping towards the child.

Suddenly the little boy was immersed in a blue bubble, barring the demon's approach.

"Woah!" The demon lithely skipped back a step, well clear of the magical energy. "Nice shield!" He shifted his gaze to Chris. "Now why can't you do that, then?" The demon laughed. "The innocent babe is more powerful than his noble protector!"

Chris stood next to Wyatt, looking through the blue bubble at his young brother, who was watching them unconcerned behind his shield, protection he didn't widen to encompass his 'noble protector'. With a longsuffering sigh, Chris let go of his wound, so he faced the Nightmare demon with two free hands.

"I wonder how much that shield can hold up against…" the Nightmare demon mused.

"A lot," Chris said, bluntly.

"No doubt. Yet, no shield is impenetrable…"

"He's twice-blessed."

"Yes, but he is still a child – not yet the most powerful being in the world. Otherwise he wouldn't need you, Lord Protector." The Nightmare demon's upper lip curled into an ugly sneer.

"True. But you're up against him _and_ me."

"Oh, please!" The demon glanced at the child encased in a shield, while the elder witch/whitelighter stood alone. Then he focused meaningfully on Chris's bloodstained stomach.

Chris gritted his teeth, trying to find strength he didn't have.

"This charade is growing tiresome. I think it's time I spiced things up." The demon grinned and rubbed his hands in anticipation. "It's time things got hot."

The familiar sense of dread sunk like an iron weight inside Chris. He glanced at Wyatt, who was now sitting down within his protective bubble and looking up at him with expectant, wide, blue eyes.

A double clap of the demon's hands brought Chris's head snapping up, his eyes scanning their surroundings for the new threat.

Across the plateau that formed the top of the hill, a ghost-white tree had appeared, drenched with dark-red from the slowly setting sun. The Nightmare demon was comfortably balanced in its bare branches, examining his manicured nails.

A dark shape emerged from behind the dead tree. The figure cracked its neck and shifted its crossbow, as it stepped forward into the open.

"Another Darklighter?" Chris frowned in contempt.

The Nightmare demon shrugged, without looking up, and studied the nails on his other hand.

Chris gave his shielded brother a quick glance, before watching the Darklighter's approach with something that was almost boredom.

Stopping a few yards away, the Darklighter fired his crossbow. The arrow soared through the air, hit Wyatt's shield and fell harmlessly to the ground.

Chris then telekinetically returned the fallen arrow back to its owner, the tip piercing all the way through the Darklighter's chest and instantly vanquishing him.

Wyatt lowered his shield, apparently deciding there was little need for it.

Chris looked up at the Nightmare demon and found him leaning back with his arms folded, his legs swinging under him, completely unconcerned.

Something suddenly barrelled into Chris's back. He fell to the ground, a substantial weight pressing him prone into the scarce grass.

Choking on bile, Chris tried to twist his head around to see what was holding him down. The stinging bite of an athame against the nape of his neck stopped him.

"Don't move," the warlock's voice rasped in his ear.

Chris could just see Wyatt in his limited field of vision. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched a second warlock approach his brother, the little boy not raising his shield back up. Chris could do nothing to help him.

"Wy-" His attempt to call the child's name ended in a choked grunt, as the warlock on top of him dug his knee deeper into his spine.

Bile dribbling over his lip, Chris watched Wyatt watching the approach of the warlock. The little child's blue eyes latched onto the warlock. Then the lids briefly lowered, hiding the penetrating gaze. When they snapped open again, the warlock cried in pain as flames erupted from within him. In seconds, all that remained of the demon was a pile of ash.

The little boy next fixed his gaze on the warlock that had Chris pinned to the ground. One blink. Chris sharply rolled away from under the flaming demon.

Laying flat on his back and trying to catch his breath, Chris was aware of the ground briefly disappearing from beneath him and being replaced by floorboards. The sky was blocked out by wooden rafters and as he crawled to his knees, Chris saw that it was bright golden sunlight, not a blood-red sunset, that shone through the stained glass windows onto the Book of Shadows.

The Nightmare demon jumped up from the old chest-of-drawers he was sat on, looking startled.

Wyatt was stood in the centre of the Halliwell Manor's attic, looking around for someone. Not finding them, tears welled in his bright eyes. Chris scooted over to him and picked him up.

Brushing dust from the tails of his coat, the Nightmare demon laughed and began to circle them. Wyatt wiggled in Chris's hold.

"Ah, the infant," the demon reflected, "the natural, perfect egotist. It's quite refreshing."

Chris kept a wary eye on the circling demon, absently fighting against the struggles of the child in his arms.

"Pure egocentricity. He thinks the world revolves around him, and perhaps one day it might, but not today. His powers are substantial and yet his infantile incapability for abstract thought makes it impossible for him to reach his full potential. Emotion, or more accurately, desire is his only directing force."

As Chris began following a faint line of reasoning that the demon's words spurred into unsteady illumination in his mind, Wyatt began wildly kicking. A fluky kick caused Chris to drop the child and fall gasping to the floor, clutching his abdomen. He stretched out a hand to try to grasp the child who was picking himself up and moving away, his little shoulders bunched up in vulnerability. Teary blue eyes glared back at him accusingly.

Dragging himself up onto his knees, Chris locked his gaze onto the Nightmare demon, who was watching Wyatt closely.

"Let Wyatt go," Chris said, his tone threatening.

The demon looked down at Chris and smiled pleasantly. "Your wish is my command," he quipped, and waved a hand.

A blinding white light enveloped the dreamscape and when Chris's vision returned, he found that Wyatt was gone.

"Now, let's go somewhere less…creepy," the Nightmare demon said, pulling the collar of his frock coat closer to his neck as he looked around with unease.

The floor shifted and was replaced by sand.

_To Be Continued..._


	10. Baiting the Demon

**Part 10: Baiting the Demon**

* * *

The fine white grains of sand were soft under his knees and sneakily found their way into his socks. Chris sighed, deciding he was spending far too much time in a less than fully upright position. As much as he'd like to cut himself some slack and perhaps indulge in a little restful sunbathing, enjoying a more relaxing slow death under the warming rays of the mock-Mediterranean sun, the threat the Nightmare demon posed to Wyatt wouldn't let him to do that. And, besides, there was a werewolf chasing him. 

A throaty growl from the grisly creature sounded all too close, and sent Chris scrabbling back to his feet. Sand wasn't the ideal thing to run on at the best of times, but a whiff of unwashed dog combined with dried blood was a good motivator.

The burning in his raw throat and overworked lungs was worse than the agony in his abdomen, though that was largely due to the drifty numbness in that region... Chris came to a halt. It was without warning, as sudden as though he had just come to the edge of an abyss. However, in front of him the pale sandy beach stretched on, waves lapping at it from the calm turquoise sea on one side and on the other side palm trees stepped down from the cliffside to sand.

Yet Chris could see the abyss in his mind. Oblivion. It wasn't a spatial thing; it was a temporal thing. His own doom was fast approaching and he was damned if he was going to let himself spend his remaining time running away. The time for caution had passed – it was too late for that.

Chris Halliwell wanted to go out fighting.

He spun around on his heel, surprisingly graceful. Self-sacrifice gave him a kind of majesty, the symptoms of desperation bowing before it. Boldness added colour to his ashen cheeks and the sparkle of challenge was unmistakable in his eyes. The slanting curve of his bluish lips brightened them with mischievousness, which carried the message that if he acted the fool, he was well aware of it and didn't give a damn.

The werewolf came to a staggering stop. Narrowed black eyes regarded Chris suspiciously, a low growl rumbling in the creature's throat.

Chris stood his ground, locking his gaze with the flesh-lusting stare of the werewolf.

It was the light of a midday sun that beamed down on the shaggy unnatural mix of man and wolf, which looked exactly like the creature from a film Chris had seen once and not so much like the yellow-eyed wendigo written about in the Book of Shadows. All was testimony to the Nightmare demon's growing power.

It was only a matter of time before the demon was strong enough – or rather, Chris was weak enough – for him to reach into Chris's mind and pluck out the secret of his identity. What the Nightmare demon would do with such knowledge, Chris scarcely dared to consider. As Wyatt's brother he would be seen as a much greater threat that must be eliminated at once, or possibly as an asset to a wider plan that could have him used against the Charmed Ones. Not to mention that the dreamscapes would undoubtedly be…devastating.

For now Chris had the bizarre dreamscape of a werewolf on a beach to contend with.

The creature was uncomfortable having its stare matched and finally snapped, its tempted hunger becoming too much to bear. Chris telekinetically threw it backwards as it ran at him. It jumped straight back up and Chris threw it straight back down. The scenario played out like that a few more times, before Chris grew bored and orbed the werewolf out into the sea.

Chris turned his back on the fabricated Mediterranean waves and headed for the shade of the equally fabricated palm trees, knowing it would take at least an hour for the tiny bobbing dot to swim to shore. The Nightmare demon could, of course, send another fabricated werewolf after him, but he doubted he would. Instead he suspected something nastier would meet him in the trees.

However, he was mistaken. No sooner had he stepped out of the sun and under the palm leaves, than the sand was torn away and replaced with flagstones.

Before Chris's senses could fully grasp hold of the busy old-fashioned kitchen, the smooth stone floor was gone. The double assault on his senses sent them reeling, and Chris queasily swayed on the neatly trimmed lawn beside the little table with its prim white cloth. He was surprised to find that the Nightmare demon wasn't in view, his wicker chair empty.

"I changed my mind." The smooth words came from behind Chris and were accompanied by something sharp pricking him between the shoulder blades.

Chris turned slowly, the weapon marginally retreating to allow him the movement. He found himself facing the Nightmare demon, who stood pompously poised with a hand on a jutted hip and a gleaming sabre pointed at Chris's chest. The blade hovered inches above his heart.

"I could kill you where you stand," the demon said with a velvety quality to his voice. Then he smiled, slyly. "But I won't."

The Nightmare demon stepped back and began masterfully swinging the sword in graceful arcs, his eyes locked onto Chris to watch his reaction to the movements of the impressive blade.

Quietly Chris watched the large sabre, as it flashed in the sun and whistled through the air. A sly smile of his own crept up to join the look of unconcern on his face.

"Compensating for something?"

He'd said that to Wyatt once and Excalibur had nearly taken his head clean off his shoulders.

The Nightmare demon's upper lip curled and he went for him too. However, the lunge was wild and clumsy – there wasn't any need to orb, a simple step back took Chris out of danger.

As the demon stumbled on his immaculate lawn, Chris orbed the sword out of his hand and into his own.

In a truly ungraceful position, rear in the air, manicured hand in the grass and dark foppish hair in his eyes, the Nightmare demon glared at Chris with a blazing, truly demoniclook. An unbecoming snarl came from between his bared teeth.

The ground shifted beneath Chris, the sabre vanished from his hand and the grounds of the manor house became an old library.

Table lamps warmed their immediate surroundings, but didn't reach the distant ceiling, leaving the tops of the tall, heavy bookcases hidden in fathomless gloom. Leather-bound books filled the shelves, the gold and silver lettering on their spines proclaiming them all as books relating the myths and psychology of dreams and sleep.

"The library of a Sandman's apprentice," Chris muttered, gazing up at the imposing bookcases.

_As you say. _

"Get set much homework?"

The Nightmare demon replied with a disembodied grunt of contempt.

Chris squeezed past a little wooden table, slowly beginning to make his way down the narrow isle formed by the bookcases that reared up on either side.

"You do know that Sandmen don't kill their dreamers, right?"

A sinister, amused laugh echoed down the isle.

_I'm not one for the copycat routine. Besides, Vir de Somnio's drab robes are really not my style. And I'm certainly not going to have wrinkles. Ever. _

"Thinking of a change in career plan, then?"

_I think this one is working out quite well, don't you? _

"Depends on how you look at it."

The Nightmare demon laughed again. _Indeed. _

"You know," Chris said, conversationally, as he squeezed past another table, "in all this time we've spent together, you've never told me your name."

The demon made no answer.

"Oh, come on!" Chris cried, tauntingly. "What, is it embarrassing? Or perhaps something too ordinary to give justice to your arrogant splendour?"

_You try my patience, foolish child._

"Or perhaps it's that you don't have one," Chris continued, and grinned mischievously.

There was a deafening boom.

In front of him, the bookcases exploded into the isle.

The blast knocked Chris back against a table. Ripped paper and splinted wood rained down on him.

As the last torn page fluttered down to the rubble, he looked up to see that there was now a large, ragged gap in the bookcase on either side, offering walkways into the isles running parallel to the one he was in.

"I think I hit a nerve," Chris murmured, breathless.

A pained creaking sound rapidly increased in volume. Then came a loud crash, which sent vibrations through the floor and a blast of air against his back.

Chris turned in time to see two bookcases fall inwards onto the wreckage of two others, a loud crash reverberating through the library again.

The fallen bookcases were a safe distance away from him, however, as he watched, the bookcases next to them trembled and then fell. These were followed by the next pair. And the next. The gap between the falling bookcases and the spot where Chris stood was rapidly reducing.

Fear jerked Chris forward, taking him stumbling over the rubble in front of him and running along the isle away from the falling bookcases.

He fled, but the crashing sounds were catching up.

Dust filled the air. Darkness was forming like a cloud, as the table lamps were smashed one by one.

Chris came to a right-angled turn in the isle and swerved around the corner.

Then he stopped, stunned.

There was a stone floor beneath his feet and up ahead a torch burnt and spat in a holder fixed to the damp wall. A chill pierced through the gloomy corridor.

He was back in the castle.

Chris spun around and found himself facing more gloomy corridor.

The dreamscapes had merged seamlessly.

Numbly, Chris walked towards the torch. His eyes drifted down to the floor and locked onto a dark, wet stain.

The Nightmare demon's power continued to grow. Chris didn't have much time left. And not just for that reason.

His ailing body was not easily paying off the toll of running for his life through the library, if the light-headedness he was experiencing was anything to go by.

He wasn't strong enough to defeat the Nightmare demon. He could only hope Wyatt would have more luck.

A rustle of silk reached him.

Chris turned and telekinetically grabbed hold of the damsel's throat. He began to choke the startled girl.

Clutching at her throat, she stumbled forward towards him, tripping on the skirts of her cream dress.

Chris's face was lined with strain. He couldn't hold her much longer.

The girl was panicking, but her gaze was steady.

Chris's magical grip failed. Exhausted, he fell to his knees in a half-faint.

The damsel gasped for breath and glared at Chris angrily, as she rubbed her neck. Then she slipped a hand into the folds of her skirts and withdrew the jewel-encrusted dagger. Stealthily, she approached Chris's slumped form.

Suddenly Chris snapped his head up, and magically knocked the girl backwards.

The telekinetic hit hadn't been able to send her to the floor, but it had unbalanced her enough for the dagger to fall from her hand.

Chris reached forward and grabbed it from where it had fallen. He slowly got to his feet, the girl watching him warily.

"Are you going to be a good little girl and run away? Or do I have to kill you?" Chris was breathily heavily, but he held the dagger with a steady hand.

The damsel tilted her head back defiantly.

"Do your worst," she spat.

Chris took a deep breath and then brought up his empty hand, telekinetically pushing her against the wall. Holding her there, he threw the dagger.

Then Chris turned his back on the corpse and walked hurriedly away. There was a dark shadow in his eyes and a grim line to his pale lips. He was sick of the Nightmare demon's fabrications.

Heavy, clanging footsteps came up the corridor from around the corner.

Dread leached the remaining flickers of colour from Chris's face.

He distinctly didn't like the demon being in control of which dreamscape he was in.

Chris began to run.

* * *

Paige sat down heavily in a chair beside the bed Chris lay sleeping on. Only she wasn't so sure his state could be described as sleep. 

The young man was ghostly white and curled up in the fetal position, his face lined with pain. His breathing was worryingly fast and shallow.

With a weary sigh, she reached over and gently took his hand in hers. His skin was cold and clammy.

Phoebe was sat on the end of the bed, staring intently at Chris, as she tried to read his emotions and discern what might be going on where he was. She raised the fresh mug of coffee, which Paige had just handed her, to her lips. Anxiety made the caffeine redundant, but she found something comforting in the warmth of the drink.

Next to Wyatt's cot, Piper leaned against Leo. The Book of Shadows was open on top of the cabinet next to her, and she was idly turning the pages, her gaze aimed at Chris, but unfocused. Guilt and worry were written clearly across her features.

Leo held Piper close, looking washed-out and regretful. His medical knowledge and Elder powers told him exactly what injuries Chris had, but he was powerless to do anything to help. Magic could do nothing and the bandages they had wrapped around the bleeding wound didn't seem to have much of an effect – whatever plane Chris's mind was in was controlling the damage and the treatment. Not that there appeared to be much of the latter going on.

Chris was not doing so hot in the Nightmare world.

In fact, he was on Death's doorstep.

* * *

Chris groaned as he rolled over onto his back, sharp edges poking him from inside his chest informing him of several broken ribs. 

He had just fallen out of a castle window. Luckily, it had only been a first floor window and the drenched grassy hill was relatively spongy.

Coughing, fluid filled his throat and came out onto his hand as a little puddle of crimson. _Oh dear. Not good. _

However, it didn't matter. A grin that only had a tenuous hold on sanity stretched across Chris's ashen face. He had worked out how to vanquish the Nightmare demon.

Then the grin slipped from Chris's face, as a dark shadow fell over him. It was the shadow of a huge mace, joined to the shape of an even bigger knight in full armour.

* * *

Piper stared transfixed at the flecks of crimson on Chris's pale lips. 

Then he began coughing again.

Red fluid pooled over his lips. Swiftly Paige grabbed hold of him, tipping his head so he wouldn't choke.

Suddenly, the jingly sound of orbs drew the attention of all three sisters and Leo to Wyatt's cot.

Piper turned just in time to see her sleeping son disappear in a shower of blue-white light.

Aghast, she stared at the empty crib.

_To Be Continued..._


	11. My Brother's Keeper

**Part 11: My Brother's Keeper**

* * *

Chris's eyes were closed, his brow pinched between them with concentration. 

Pain came screeching through and his thoughts juddered, but the connection held. He pushed away the invading agony and regained his focus. _Closer, closer, closer… _

Then he relaxed, sighing with exhausted relief, just as orbing chimes rang out across the fabricated and wet hill.

He grinned. He'd known he could do it.

Slowly, Chris opened his eyes. The knight was stood over him, metal-clad foot drawn back to nudge him in the side again, when suddenly he vanished.

Chris pushed his palms into the soft ground and tried to sit up. A hot pressure filled his head and the dreamscape blurred, his arms going wobbly and sending him back down to the grass. A groan escaped his lips, as he closed his eyes again and willed the wooziness to pass.

"You just orbed him _physically_ into this plane." The voice sounded stunned and anxious.

A grin flashed across Chris's face, and his eyelids slid back. Carefully, he eased himself back up and managed to get to his knees this time, the mud soaking through his jeans.

The Nightmare demon was stood a few yards away, his frock coat flapping around him in the damp wind.

"Who _are _you?" He was looking at Chris with bewilderment and alarm.

Chris glanced over at the little boy standing next to the castle.

He smiled.

"His brother."

Dread stripped the Nightmare demon's face and took the confidence out of his pompous stance. "The son of a Charmed One and a whitelighter…" he breathed. For the first time, the Nightmare demon was truly afraid.

Chris looked over at Wyatt again. Regardless of the place in time, he could always sense his brother. He'd once managed to orb Phoebe from her desire world and into Paige's, while lying on the ground with Darklighter poison coursing through his blood. Reaching out from another plane and orbing his brother to him was child's play. Well, ok, it wasn't. But he didn't want to taint the moment with smugness. Well, maybe a little wouldn't hurt. Carrying around an inferiority complex meant his ego was always in need of a little nursing.

Chris studied the child whose life he was gambling with. He swallowed guiltily. Piper would kill him if she knew.

Wyatt was stood, childishly unsteady on his feet, looking around him and blinking his wide blue eyes in surprise. Then his eyes latched onto Chris. Slowly his bottom lip protruded and he looked like was about to wail with displeasure.

Apparently, bringing him back to a dreamscape hadn't put Chris in his brother's good books.

With a sudden jerk, the castle and the wet hill were gone, and replaced.

Chris found himself alone, at the base of a glass statue. The glistening, detailed sculpture was a ten-foot-high dragon, sat with its tail curled around its legs.

Getting his feet under himself, Chris reached up to brace himself against it. Sharply he withdrew his hand. A gasp fell from his lips.

The statue was freezing cold.

Chris stood up and studied the dragon, tentatively reaching out to touch it again.

_Ice_.

It was made of ice. He looked at the statue in awe, the sunlight twinkling on the beast's perfectly crafted scales. It was amazing.

Moving away from the statue, Chris took in the rest of his surroundings. There was short, richly green grass under his feet and the sky was clear and pale blue. The statue was in the centre of a square formed by tall evergreen hedges, and neat partings in the thick bushes formed two exits on opposite sides.

Chris wasn't sure whose dreamscape this was. It could easily have been the demon's or Wyatt's.

He walked through one of the exits and found himself in a corridor formed by immaculate, very tall and very thick hedges. Going around a right-angled turn and finding himself in identical surroundings, Chris realised where he was.

He was in a maze.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Chris tiredly reached out to Wyatt. He'd already sensed the child was not far away, somewhere in the maze. No harm had come to him, which was a relief, and Wyatt didn't even seem to be afraid. In fact, he seemed extraordinarily calm… Unease stirred in Chris's numb abdomen.

Chewing nervously on his bottom lip, Chris closed his eyes and focused on trying to orb Wyatt to him. Coming up against resistance, he pulled harder, but he couldn't do it… Chris's eyes flew open. Wyatt was stopping him.

Chris swore.

He began jogging through the maze, ignoring the white-hot stabs of his cracked ribs and his inability to breathe easily.

When he finally came to another small clearing, Chris was wheezing like an asthmatic in the throngs of an attack. He slumped against the ice statue in the centre, clutching his chest and pressing his head against the blessedly cool sculpture.

Chris forced himself to take deeper, slower breaths. His head began to clear and his limbs came back under his control. He stumbled backwards and looked up at the statue.

It was a dragon like the first, but this one had its head thrown back and was shooting a frozen flame out of its mouth. There was a film of water over it, which stopped his touch from sticking him to the ice, but the intricate detail was still intact. However, it wasn't going to help him with what he intended to do. He would have to get a move on, before the statue melted too much.

Chris reached up and took a strong hold of one of the dragon's half-raised wings. The ice was slippery and his hand began to go numb almost instantly. Gritting his teeth, Chris forced his fingers to stay locked around the scaled wing, and firmly planted a foot on the bend of the dragon's elbow. He pushed and pulled himself upwards, his other foot leaving the solid ground. His free hand reached up and grabbed hold of the dragon's withers. He let go of the wing and flung his arm over the dragon's back. Then pressing his chest against the dragon's shoulder, he pulled himself upwards. His broken ribs screamed at him to stop and a dark cloud descended over him. He thought he was going to pass out.

Finding himself straddling the dragon's back as the black haze lifted, Chris wasn't sure how he'd gotten there. His ribs, however, were telling him that they knew all too well.

Chris surveyed his view from this new vantage point, but he wasn't yet high enough to see over the maze's tall hedges.

He looked at the dragon's head and neck with trepidation, then glanced down at the distant ground and grimaced.

After taking a moment to breathe warm air onto his hands, Chris reached forward and used the dragon's neck to steady himself, as he carefully brought his right knee up onto its back, and then brought his other knee up, so that he ended up in a kneeling position. He wrapped his arms further around the dragon's neck then, and pressed close to the ice as he slowly rose up onto his feet.

The view was breathtaking.

The maze stretched out to the horizon, the ground was completely flat and the geometric shapes formed by the dark green hedges were perfectly neat. Ice dragon heads rose above the tops of the clearings, which were randomly interspersed amongst the network of paths.

In the very heart of the maze there was a huge ice statue. It was a dragon like the others, but rose up much higher. It's back was arched, its wings were spread out and its head was pointing towards the sun, as if it was about to take off.

Another difference between this dragon and the others was the ice horn protruding from its forehead. And then, of course, there was the small boy sat on the crown of the dragon's head, holding onto the horn and just watching.

_Damn you, Wyatt Halliwell! _

Chris sighed in frustration. Then he looked down at the ground.

Whereas orbing up into such a precarious position would undoubtedly have gone very nastily wrong, Chris had no qualms about orbing down.

His feet materialised on solid ground, and he rubbed warmth back into his numbed hands.

Now he knew what he'd be getting into, Chris tried to orb to the clearing in the centre of the maze. However, he found he couldn't do that anymore than he could orb his brother to him.

"_Wyatt_…" he growled under his breath, furious.

He clenched his fists and then unclenched them, forcing himself to calm down and think.

He'd seen the Nightmare demon moving through the network at about the same distance from the centre as he was. A distance that was blessedly close when considering the possibly infinite size of the maze. It seemed Wyatt wasn't letting the demon shimmer, so the odds were fair. If you ignored the fact that Chris wasn't in a particularly good physical state.

Of course, the odds shouldn't have been fair, anyway - they should have been in his favour.

Chris fumed. He was the kid's mother's whitelighter, for heaven's sake!

Not to mention his goddamned little brother.

Chris gave a longsuffering sigh. Then he began jogging through the network of tall hedges again, arm clamped against his hurting side.

Being able to sense Wyatt kept Chris moving in the general right direction. The maze was surprisingly uncomplicated and Chris made no more than two wrong turns in total.

He arrived in the central clearing, moving at a pace that was more like hasty stumbling than a jog, at the same time as the Nightmare demon came through another entrance.

The demon had discarded his frock coat somewhere, sweat dripped down his face and chest, scruffy shirt hanging open at the neck and wrists. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes wild and angry. Foam dripped from his mouth.

Apparently, the Nightmare demon didn't like not being in control. He was taking it all rather badly.

The demon launched himself at Chris.

Before Chris could react, the demon had him tightly by the arm and was kicking his legs out from under him.

Chris went down hard. His trapped arm almost jarred out of its socket.

The demon roughly pulled on Chris's arm, jerking him so he was more upright.

"Any last requests?" he asked, his demonic eyes flashing darkly and a smirk hovering over his lips.

Chris gave a lopsided grin in response. "Yes. What _is_ your name?"

The demon growled in fury and tossed Chris away in disgust.

Chris looked up at the ice dragon poised as if about to launch into flight. He could see Wyatt still sat on its head, still just watching.

He got to his feet and reached up, trying to find a handhold on the enormous, slippery sculpture.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him backwards, dragging him away from the statue. Chris kicked and struck out with his elbows, bashing the demon in the nose and finding himself free. Instantly, he tried again to find a way up the statue.

But then there were vice-like hands around his neck. Choking him. And preventing him from going anywhere.

Chris looked up at Wyatt, his eyes pleading. "A little help?" he called, hoarsely, from within the Nightmare demon's almost strangling hold.

But Wyatt just watched.

Gathering his strength, Chris gave the demon a telekinetic push and twisted to the side, the demon's hands roughly scraping away from his neck.

Chris gasped for breath and rubbed his throat, as he stumbled away.

He approached the ice statue from a slightly different angle and tried again to find a way to climb up it.

His right hand found a ridge and his finger began to close around the ice. And then there was fire.

An explosion of fierce flames ripped through Chris's abdomen. The numbness became a distant memory. All there was, was pain. Fiery agony. Nothing else existed in the world.

A grinning face flashed before him. The Nightmare demon. An ice dragon, reared up, ready to leave. A small boy looked down at him. Wide, wide, blue, blue eyes.

"Wyatt! Wyatt, please!"

Someone was yelling, crying, begging.

The blackness was cushioning him, bouncing him on top of its dark waves.

The boy. Wyatt. His eyes were locked onto something…

Chris fought to bring himself fully back into the world.

Wyatt's eyes were locked firmly onto the Nightmare demon. He raised a little, unwavering forefinger. And then he blinked, meaningfully.

There was a scream.

Chris weakly dragged himself to his knees and saw the first flames burst from the Nightmare demon's chest. In the end, he was just like all the rest.

Then the earth was shaking, the ice dragon sinking into the ground. Wyatt was riding it down towards him.

"You're nothing but trouble, you know that?" Chris told the boy, but there was an affectionate smile on his pale, exhausted face.

Then, as the Nightmare demon's screams died away, the dreamscape began to melt into nothingness...

Chris urgently reached up and took hold of Wyatt's hand. _Go… Go!_

* * *

Piper Halliwell cried out and staggered forward towards the cot. She swept her child up into her arms, not truly believing he was really there until she felt his little heartbeat against her chest, his little hand holding onto her shoulder, and she could smell the baby shampoo in his fair hair. She could smell something else on him, too…smoke, ash… 

Then Leo was embracing them both and kissing her, and nothing else mattered. Everything was alright.

_TBC_

_(one more chapter...)_


	12. All That Ends

**Part 12: All That Ends**

* * *

The person-sized buddle of dark rags on the doorstep of the Halliwell Manor was visibly trembling. A pale arm hesitantly reached out and managed to reach the bell on the third attempt. As the chime rang out, the rags began to vibrate as if they were covering a pneumatic drill. 

Then the door opened and the rags froze.

"Can I help you?" Phoebe Halliwell asked, staring at the visitor.

The first noise the rags emitted was a hoarse squeak. This was followed by the marginal improvement, "I-I-I…um um ummmm…"

"Do I know you?"

The rags sharply swung from side to side: no, no, no.

"Can I get someone for you?" Phoebe asked, frowning.

The rags nodded then. A feeble whisper answered, "_Chr-Chr_-Chris…"

"One moment." Phoebe turned from the door to yell into the house's interior, "Chris, there's a tramp at the door for you!"

She was gone then, and the rags seemed to relax in relief.

A slender young man arrived in the doorway, darkly shadowed eyes widening in surprise.

"Hychek, what the hell are you doing here?" The tone was both that of incredulous and accusatory, missing out hospitable welcoming.

"I needed to see you," the lower-level demon replied, pushing back the hood on his ragged disguise slightly, but still keeping his stubby horns covered.

"I'm touched, really I am," Chris mocked. "But I saw you only yesterday, so if you've started missing me already, you have some issues I really do _not_ want to be part of."

"Ha ha, funny." Hychek scowled. Then the demon saw the wince cross the young man's face as he shifted to stretch out stiff muscles in his side, and Hychek remembered why he'd come. He went pale and scratched his neck, where the itchy collar of his ramshackle outfit was irritating it.

Chris's face fell, and he suddenly looked sickly exhausted. "What have you done?"

"I might have done something quite –"

Hychek's hesitant confession was cut off by Chris shoving him aside and leaping down onto the steps.

The demon spluttered, nearly falling over. He recovered his balance and turned, his jaw slackening to gape at the settling pile of ash on the driveway.

"Colubrine demon," Chris explained, breathing heavily as he came back up to the door. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"Oh, nothing. It doesn't matter anymore."

Chris frowned, but Hychek cut in before he could speak.

"What's of more interest is that I've found out something about the Nightmare demon." Hychek was sweating like a pig in the thick rags under the San Francisco early evening sun. "It seems the demon generally steers clear of young children, has less control over them or something."

A smile quirked Chris's lips. "What's this? Willing cooperation?"

"Uh, no… More like guilt, actually," Hychek admitted, quietly.

Chris's eyes flicked from Hychek to the pile of ash on the driveway and back again, with what the demon suspected was comprehension deep in his eyes.

The young man was silent for a moment. Pale and weak, he had certainly looked better, though he appeared calmer than when Hychek had seen him the previous evening.

"It doesn't matter about the Nightmare demon anymore," Chris finally told him. "He's gone."

"You vanquished him?" Hychek asked, surprised.

"He's been vanquished, yes."

"Woah, man," Hychek breathed in admiration. "When I saw you were in one piece, I took it you hadn't had round two yet."

"Geez, I'm glad you had so much confidence in me."

"No offence. Just from what I heard he was a tough cookie."

"Oh," Chris waved a dismissive hand, "it was like crumpets in the park."

"Uh, glad to hear it. Well, if I stay up here much longer I'm going to come out in hives…so…"

"See ya, Hychek. I'll be sure to call by soon." Chris grinned mockingly.

"Oh, great," the lower-level demon replied, sarcastic. "I'll look forward to that so much, thank you."

Disgruntled, Hychek shimmered back to the underworld.

Chris stepped back inside the manor and shut the front door. He headed into the sitting room, smothering a yawn.

Although Leo had healed all his injuries, he was still a little stiff and achy as though his body was finding it hard to believe the wounds were really gone. An hour or so of more sleep would help get rid of the lingering soreness and Chris settled into the couch with that idea in mind.

Earlier he had thought that his insomnia would have been worse after being trapped in the Nightmare demon's world, fear keeping him from letting go of the waking world. However, though his mind had been anxious, the deep weariness of his body had overridden his worries, sick as it was of having to suffer because his brain was making all the decisions. He had slept for a full ten hours, blissfully and dreamlessly.

All in all, it had been a pretty wise move, since it kept him away from the sisters' barrage of questions.

He'd ignored their exact questions and slurred something he hoped sounded like: "The Nightmare demon has been vanquished. The demon drew Wyatt into the dream world. No harm came to him. He'll be fine." How much had been coherent enough for them to understand, he wasn't sure. He had promptly faded into slumber.

By the time he'd opened his eyes again, they'd calmed down and were quite happy to forget the whole thing – Wyatt was safe, he was safe, they were all there to fight another day, so there was nothing worth mulling over.

Of course, Chris couldn't forget as easily as they could. But he was adept at pretending he already had.

In truth, when he closed his eyes, he could still see the fabricated Bianca's soulless face twisted with cruelty, and he was haunted by the phantom burning agony of a jewel-encrusted dagger being torn out of his belly. So many horrific images and memories of suffering would be accompanying him for some time, but he knew all of them would fade. The mind didn't take long to forget pain and even the worst of memories gradually diminished in clarity. However, Chris knew he had some natural, harmless nightmares to come before then. But those he wasn't unfamiliar with and he knew how to deal with them.

Chris smiled as he got his head comfortable on a cushion. Thesitting room was warm and homely. Piper was playing with Wyatt on the floor, Phoebe and Paige were watching a movie and Leo wasn't around.

His gaze settled on the little fair-haired boy. His brother had worried him for a bit, what with taking control of the dreamscape and then refusing to offer him any aid. However, ultimately, Wyatt had pulled through for him.

After Wyatt had gotten out of the last dreamscape, Chris had feared for a moment that he would die along with the nightmare world. There had been an unsettling feeling of everything disintegrating, slipping into nothingness, and he was caught up in it. His senses were giving him confused, fragmented information, and a glowing white light was searing through him. He really had thought it was the end.

But then he had found himself opening his eyes, and seeing a ceiling and four anxious faces.

Then came the pain.

There was nothing else for a while, just the pain.

Oh, and the coughing up blood, there had been a lot of that, too.

But then he'd felt magic healing him, taking away the horrible pain, making it easy to breath again. It wasn't until the magic was done that he was aware enough to realise where he was: Home.

That had been a good feeling.

Chris watched as Wyatt took the bright-red block Piper handed him and put it on top of a little stack they were building. His smile softly slipped away, as he reminded himself that it wasn't over yet. It no longer seemed likely that the Nightmare demon had been the one to turn Wyatt – it was clear he didn't have enough control over him as a child and Wyatt was turned by a demon when he was still an infant. That meant the threat was still out there.

Silently, Chris repeated his vow. He wouldn't let his brother be turned. He would save Wyatt. He would save the future from darkness.

Chris was Wyatt's protector.

His brother's protector.

The gentle smile returned to Chris's face, his eyelids growing heavy, as he watched Wyatt add a blue block to the little tower.

Chris wasn't truly home. But sometimes he could almost pretend he was.

* * *

_Fin._

* * *

_Author's Note:_ There we go: all's well that ends well - I've returned Chris (mostly) none the worse for wear. ;o) 

I'm so very glad this story has worked out so well. Your feedback has been very encouraging and has given me a confidence boost for writing longer stories - thank you! Unfortunately, I doubt very much that I will have the time to devote to another one that is anywhere near a match to this one (at least not in the foreseeable future). But do expect to see some short fics from me - I have some ideas in mind!


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